


Someone Else’s Solid Ground

by ironwreath (broodingmischief)



Series: dungeons & dragons [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pillow Talk, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 27,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broodingmischief/pseuds/ironwreath
Summary: Snippets into the friendship and eventual romance between Cihro Lanna, half-elf assassin of the Clasp, and Talsin Hirol, a former noble of the underdark.Set alongside Be Cunning, and Full of Tricks.Art of Talsin here.
Relationships: Cihro Lanna/Talsin Hirol, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: dungeons & dragons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638913
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Collide

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Orpheus by Sara Bareilles. This fic is less of a slow burn itself and more that it took them nine years to fall in love and get together. 
> 
> Talsin belongs to my dear friend [greyfen](https://greyfen.tumblr.com/). As always, all my thanks and love to him for letting me borrow his son.
> 
> Any number between brackets indicates the session the fic takes place around. If there are no brackets, it takes place before or after the game or at an ambiguous point in time between sessions. These ficlets are in chronological order of the game's events and character's lives, not in the order I wrote them.
> 
> “The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.” — Mikko Harvey, from “For M,” Foundry (no. 9, September 2018)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two assassins meet in Westruun.

Cihro heard it before he felt it. One moment wind rushed over his ears, then came the indistinguishable sound of two people colliding. There was an escape of air in two loud ‘oofs’ and a dozen limbs flying. Cihro fell backwards, slamming into pavement where he should have been running.

He leapt to his feet and laid a hand on the hilt of his dagger. He hadn’t run into a Westruun guard, but a pedestrian: a high elf with platinum blonde hair dressed in navy and black. A rapier sat at his waist and he was in the middle of regaining his balance, as he hadn’t fallen over. He met his gaze, startled. He was damn pretty, but Cihro wouldn't let it distract him.

The sound of guards racing after him approached from around the bend in the road. Cihro bounced on his toes, ready to make a break for it again, but the elf was almost a foot taller than him and blocked the path.

“‘Scuse me,” Cihro said. “In a bit of a rush. You gunna move?”

His eyes, sky blue, flicked to the hand resting on his dagger hilt. Cihro noticed his hand also on the pommel of his rapier, shifting with the threat. His eyes flicked to over his shoulder, where the guards were. Cihro tensed.

Then he smirked, all amusement, lowering the hand from his rapier. Cihro recognized a certain twinkle in his eye. He knew the sight of a man on the run that could only come from being one himself.

“You’ve really chosen the worst possible way to run, haven’t you?” he asked. His voice was lilting and playful. “Come over here, hide. I’ll help you.”

The elf darted off and disappeared around a corner, quick as a snake in the grass. Despite his better judgement and an open road ahead of him, Cihro took a leap of faith and followed. He’d opened a door Cihro hadn’t seen and motioned him inside. Cihro shot him a puzzled look as he passed. The elf only winked and the door clicked behind him.

It was a basic storage room, a little hideaway separate from the rush outside. Cihro crammed himself between some square crates and strained his ears.

The sound of clattering armour slowed to where he ran into the elf. 

“-into me, saw him head that way!” the elf shouted. Convincingly, too. Cihro drew his knife. He had been cornered? “If you hurry you might still catch him!”

The clamour of guards returned with a hurried “thank you, sir,” but echoed off in the wrong direction, away from his hiding spot. He waited until they died completely before he dared to relax.

There was a beat. He caught his breath and his heartbeat stilled its pitter-patter. He heard a knock and saw a blade of light break over the floor in front of his toes.

“You’re lucky you ran into me,” the elf said, stepping lightly into the space. “I know all the best hiding spots. You really ought to learn them yourself.”

Cihro poked his head out. “You think I’d know better, I’ve been living here for years.” He stood and sheathed his dagger, smiling as he approached. The elf was fixing his hair, which was disturbed in the collision. “Kinda hard to hide when you need to run, though.”

“Ah, but the best know they don’t need to run for long.” He returned the smile, still radiating amusement. Cihro wasn’t sure if he was being insulted or this guy just loved to preen, but he didn’t sense any malicious intent. He drew back his hood.

Now that Cihro knew he wasn’t about to rat him out, he could better appreciate the high cheekbones and long eyelashes and the sloping shape of his chest to his waist. He seemed to notice the appraising and looked even more amused, even returned it once Cihro lifted the hood from his face, which was a surprise. The half-elf ears hadn’t disgusted him as a full-blooded elf, then.

“Got a name, oh saviour of mine?” Cihro asked.

“None, though I do like the sound of ‘saviour of mine,’” he said with a grin. “I’m Talsin. And who might you be?”

“Cihro.”

They shook hands.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Cihro asked. “To show my thanks. I need to lay low, but I know a place.”

“Well, I’m not one to ever say no to free spirits,” Talsin said, holding the door open for him once again. “And you're in luck; I'm not busy. Perhaps you can regale me with why you were running from the guards in the first place.”

Cihro laughed. “It’s not much of a story.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”


	2. Understood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro asks Talsin to teach him undercommon.

“Can you teach me undercommon?”

A pause. Slowly, the book lowered until two pointed ears drifted into view, then two bewildered lilac eyes.

"...Why?” Talsin asked.

Cihro shrugged, approaching the warm glow and crackle of the campfire now that their tent was pitched. “How’s that saying go?” he asked. “Something something knowledge is power?”

“That’s just it, C. It’s ‘knowledge is power’.” Talsin set aside the book and stitched his fingers over his abdomen, one leg coming to cross over the other, comfortably reclined. “And how will this particular knowledge aid you? I’ve not heard undercommon spoken on the surface much at all since I popped out of my hole thirty-some-odd years ago.”

Cihro plunked down beside him. “I dunno, maybe on the off chance I find myself in the underdark one day. Seems better to know it and not need it than to need it and not have it.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Besides, then if we ever need a secret language that isn’t thieves cant, we have something we can use.”

“I would much rather use thieves cant,” Talsin said with a scoff. “Less grating on the ears for everyone involved.”

“Fair enough. So will you teach me?”

“I can, but are there any other reasons in that head of yours?”

Cihro sat back and craned his neck to meet the sky’s gaze of stars. “I dunno,” he said. “You’ve talked a lot about the underdark lately—”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Talsin interjected with a quirk of the lips.

“—and you can talk about the monsters and the stronghold and weird plants but until you show me a picture I can only visualize it so much.” He glanced down to his hands and opened his palms. “Language is something I get. It’s something I can learn and actually remember.” His eyes flicked to Talsin, sheepish almost. “I feel like it’ll help me understand everything better.”

“I’m not sure the underdark is a place you want to understand,” Talsin said solemnly.

“Maybe not,” Cihro conceded. “But I do wanna understand you a bit better if we’re gunna be traveling together.”

Talsin blinked in surprise. He cleared his throat, averted his gaze, and sat a little straighter. 

Cihro waved his hands. “No pressure. You can think about it.” He stood, but Talsin clasped his arm, gave a small tug, and sat him back on his rear.

“I’ll teach you,” he said. “There were never any reservations, I was simply curious. Any new language under your belt is a good thing. I hope it’ll be of use to you.” He grinned. “And I’d like to see if you’re really as good with language as you claim to be.”

“I promise I’m every bit as good with my mouth as I say I am.” He waggled his eyebrows, mirroring his grin. “Though probably nowhere nearly as good as you.”

Talsin rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Likely, yes.” Then, more seriously as he reached between the folds of his bag and rummaged around for ink and paper, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Talsin cleared his throat again, extracting a vial and quill. “Nobody’s ever said that before. About wanting to understand.”

“Probably because they take one look at you and get too tongue tied,” Cihro joked. Then, because he’d been afforded a beat of sincerity, “Getting to know someone isn’t hard. Most people just don’t make the effort or don’t know how.” He frowned. “I get it, though. It’s hard to let people in even when you want to when your primary source of income is murder.”

“Indeed.” Talsin shrugged as if to make nothing of it, but Cihro saw the tension in his shoulders. “Though in my case, I never know how someone will react when I tell them I’m drow. There are some..additional hurtles.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Talsin shook his head with a smile. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’ve crossed that bridge, at the very least.” 

“I guess having a friend in the same field as you is kinda invaluable. You trusted me enough to tell me you were drow, I feel like the least I could do is make an effort to learn a thing or two since that’s a bridge not everybody gets to cross.” Cihro knocked shoulders with him. “So, y’know, anytime.”


	3. Alluring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally just 'stupid, sexy Talsin.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For promptober 2020.

"Bath's all yours, Cihro."

Cihro glanced up from sharpening one of his knives, cross-legged on one of two beds in a modest tavern room. It was the first time he and Talsin roomed together since agreeing to travel – they'd slept on the road, but never at an inn.

He almost lost his grip on his blade. Talsin stood shirtless with his back to him, his towel slung over his shoulder while he searched his pack for a shirt. He was dressed from the waist down, and thank the gods, because Cihro probably _would_ have dropped his knife and stabbed himself. 

His silvery hair was damp and slicked back, forming a flowing point that lead the eyes into his neck and shoulders. His skin was dewy with bathwater and Cihro could've followed individual beads that still clung to him, dripping down the slope of his spine and ribs. He didn't blame them for wanting to stay. 

He didn’t see many notable scars, which he thought was a marvel, given Talsin grew up in the underdark. However, his skin creased with muscle whenever he shifted his arms.

He swallowed. Talsin was his friend and traveling companion, he reminded himself, no matter how much they flirted and no matter how alluring Talsin was. 

Talsin peeked over his shoulder with a crooked finger of a smile. "What's the matter? Shall I turn around so you can see the front?"

 _Yes_ , Cihro's brain interjected before his mouth, but he shook his head. "Tempting as that is, I should bathe." He sheathed his dagger and put away his whetstone. "But don't think I won't do the same when I come back as payback."

"I look forward to it." 


	4. Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro realizes he's in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place roughly eight/nine years after they first meet. Also, Cihro has arachnophobia.

It was so inconsequential.

Cihro skipped over to Talsin to throw his arms around his neck in a hug. It’d only been a week since they were last together, but those days were filled with research, planning, and the eventual follow-through of an assassination. The stress in his head had been transferred to gold in his pocket and he felt light, free, and ready to hit the road again.

Talsin laughed, embraced him in kind, and rocked them a bit, sharing in his enthusiasm. Cihro felt a surge of warmth in his chest that made him squeeze tighter. He was giddy, his heart racing and cheeks burning, and then it was like a house of bricks collapsing on him because oh fuck, he was in love with his best friend, wasn’t he.

He drew back abruptly, though Talsin held on to his elbows to keep him at arm’s length.

“C?” he asked. He smiled, but there was always that thread of concern. “What is it? You’re acting as though there’s a spider in your pant leg.”

Cihro shuddered. Subtly, he gave a tug. Talsin didn’t budge. “Gods, don’t say that or else they _will_ start manifesting. There’s no spider here.”

Talsin grinned. Cihro’s heart fluttered and his stomach did a backflip and then some cartwheels. This was a bad. Very bad. How long had he been like this and not known?

And more importantly, was it obvious to Talsin?

“Then why else would you pull back like that?” Talsin asked. “It certainly can’t be me, my hugs are one of a kind.”

“Maybe it is,” Cihro argued, finally extracting himself and putting a gap between them. “Maybe there’s a spider in _your_ pant leg. I have a sixth sense for the little bastards, y’know.” His argument was lame and he knew it and he saw that Talsin knew it, too, a single eyebrow curving upwards. But the heat rushing to his face and the aggressive, almost violent swirl of his emotions made it difficult to think or speak.

“Right,” Talsin said, unconvinced. He passed him with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, retrieving his bag from the ground. “Well, whenever there stops being a spider, C, I demand the enthusiastic greeting I’m deserved.”

Cihro clutched his shirt as if to tell his heart to _quit it_ before he tagged along. “Got it.”


	5. Wax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s that good ol’ “ending up in a compromised position” trope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For promptober 2020.

Talsin crowded Cihro into a wall behind some crates. His back cracked into wood and a rush of air escaped his mouth in a cough – Talsin’s hand flew up to cover it.

They were in a warehouse at the docks of Stilben. The night was thick and swampy and the sky a pungent shade of navy blue. Cihro heard crickets, frogs, the gentle lick of waves, and most importantly, approaching voices.

They stilled like wax figures of themselves, but Cihro’s body conspired against him – when he strained his ears, his other senses sharpened to match. Talsin’s chest was flush with his, an arm braced on the wall beside him and he felt every swell of breath, every minute shift of weight. Like wax, Cihro feared he’d melt under his hand.

He felt hidden and protected in Talsin’s shadow but exposed in a new way. Talsin craned his neck to the side, eyes trained on the entrance with moonlight accenting the swoop of his nose from under his hood. Cihro’s attention fell to his neck. Also mostly covered, but even from beneath his collar he saw the pop of muscle connecting behind his ear.

Cihro struggled to hear, could really only focus on surviving himself. After a minute Talsin relaxed and uncupped his mouth. His head turned to him, grinning, but his smile dropped and his eyes widened.

The next few seconds passed like a lifetime and a half in their shared gaze. Talsin straightened his arm and leaned back, but not wholly – the hand on the wall stayed put. The magic was gone, though.

“That was close,” he whispered. “Do you think they would buy it if we pretended to be horny youngsters making out if they stumbled upon us?”

Cihro was grateful for the dim light – he knew he was redder than a hot chili pepper. The prospect of aggressive and enthusiastic kissing right after Talsin had his hand smushed against his mouth made his heart gallop and head swoon. No amount of acting could hide that he would enjoy it.

“Don’t get us in trouble just so you have the excuse,” he scoffed, then glared for good measure. Talsin chuckled and stepped away proper.

“Well, c’mon, then,” he said. “That nasty crime boss isn’t going to kill himself.”

Cool air rushed over the empty space he left behind, and like always, Cihro was equal parts disappointed and relieved.


	6. Safe Harbour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two instances of Cihro and Talsin helping the other while hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because times are tough and I need fluff and pining, damn it!!
> 
> Talsin is in his high elf disguise the entire chapter.

Someone or some _thing_ assaulted them from above. Cihro never heard it coming. Their horse screeched bloody murder and flung Cihro off one side before collapsing the other way with Talsin still half in the saddle.

The horse impacted the ground with a _crack_ accompanied by the loudest cuss he’d ever heard. The sound of feathers cutting air joined the mix, creating a veritable clusterfuck. Cihro rolled to his feet, only dinged, bow already drawn.

Their horse skittered to her hooves and raced off and their assailant – a giant owl, now that he could see what was happening – soared off after her, talons outstretched. Cihro loosed an arrow after it out of sheer habit, but he misjudged the wind and it sailed wide, wilting out of the sky.

Once he was sure the owl wouldn’t change its mind about its meal of choice, he whirled and rushed over to Talsin, collapsed on his back on the ground. He moved, but his body was a gnarled twist of a body in pain.

Cihro slid to his knees by his side. “T,” he said, shouldering his bow and hands hovering. “Are you alright?”

“Leg,” Talsin hissed through his teeth, head thrown back against the dirt, “Broken. I think.”

Cihro glanced down. Talsin’s lower leg hung limp, bent in slightly more than it was supposed to be. Cihro hastily reached for the clasps on his boot and loosened it before gingerly sliding it off, then drew a knife. He carefully sliced away the fabric, being sure to move the limb as little as possible, but breathed a sigh of relief when he found Talsin’s skin smooth and unpierced by bone.

It was, however, swelling rapidly. “Uh,” he said. “Yeah, that’s definitely broken.”

“Did you just _cut_ my _pants_?” Talsin screeched, incredulous.

“I had to see if it was bleeding!”

“Wonderful. Splendid.” Talsin lifted his head and Cihro saw the dirt imprint of a horseshoe framing his eye, which was also puffing up. “She kicked me in the face, too.”

Cihro winced. Meekly he offered, “I think I’ll need to do more than kiss this one better.”

Talsin huffed a strained laugh and shot him a feral smile. “Only if you promise it’s not just my eye you’re kissing.”

Cihro flushed, which was still a rush of warmth he was getting used to ever since he realized his feelings went deeper than platonic. Of course he still found the strength to flirt even with a broken leg and black eye. He couldn’t even scold him – he would’ve done the same.

“I need to get a splint for this and get you to Emon,” Cihro said, scanning their scattered belongings. He raced around to collect them and take stock. He thought they had a potion, but it either fell out and shattered or was stolen by their runaway horse. “Ugh, I don’t – what do we have that’s strong enough to splint it?”

“Swords,” Talsin suggested, but Cihro heard the pain weaving into his voice, like it was air forced out of his lungs instead of refined words. “Are there – trees nearby?”

Cihro threw his gaze to the horizon. The Seashale Mountains punched the sky to the west, but any trees were fragmented, either on their own or in bundles away from the road. He wasn’t comfortable leaving Talsin on the ground by himself, vulnerable.

“I’ll use our swords.” Sheathed, obviously, he thought, but forgave Talsin for using as few words as possible.

It struck him then how unusual that was for Talsin and how grave their situation was because of it. Emon was still a few days south by horseback and now they were horseless and had an injured party. Cihro ejected the thought from his mind before it could take root and flower into hopelessness, removing Talsin’s rapier. One thing at a time.

He looped off his own shortsword and aligned them parallel to Talsin’s leg. He’d dealt with broken bones before, but usually his own and usually his ribs or collarbone from a blow or from falling off a building. Fortunately, he’d read enough about basic medicine and whatever he didn’t read, Talsin tried to fill him in on. When it was just the two of them for so long, they had to be prepared.

He fished some rope from his bag and tied each sword hilt to its scabbard so they wouldn’t fly out of their housing. He cut the torn pant leg in two and lined each scabbard with it for padding, then tore off a long strip of his scarf.

“Your scarf—” Talsin started, but Cihro held up a hand.

“Not important,” he said. “Not _as_ important. Easier to fix. Where’s the break? Can you tell? Can you point to where you think it is?” 

Talsin lifted a hand and uncurled one finger, his knuckles bone-white from being taut. Cihro nodded and closed the scabbards in on Talsin’s leg and looped the fabric around, above and below where he pointed. When he finished he sat back with a sigh. It was the weirdest looking splint he’d ever seen, but at least it existed. Better to look weird and work than look good and not function.

Cihro scurried around to pack the rest of their things into his bag. “Can you sit up?”

Talsin blew out a long breath and nodded. Cihro clasped one of his hands and slid the other under his back to help him into a sitting position. Talsin caught his breath at the top and examined Cihro’s splint, two different swords framing a half-naked leg, barring his sock.

“You owe me a pair of pants,” he complained.

“We’re gunna be doing a lot of shopping in Emon, I think,” Cihro said. “Can you carry our stuff on your back? I think I’m gunna have to piggyback you for a bit, can’t do it myself.”

Talsin rolled his head and shot him his most sceptical look. “Do you honestly plan on carrying me all the way to Emon?”

“If I have to, sure,” Cihro offered sincerely. “Or I’ll try, at least. But I’m hoping we’re close enough that we’ll run into some merchants or farmers.”

Talsin’s face pinched for a brief moment with an emotion Cihro couldn’t pin before it was swallowed up by pain again. He nodded. “I think I may be able to hop on one leg if need be.”

“Let’s see how it goes.”

Cihro tied his bag to Talsin’s, made sure it was secure, then shuffled so his back faced him. Talsin scooted forward, hands looping around his shoulders. Cihro found his good leg, hooked it over his hip, then attempted to stand.

Cihro was a man of average strength no matter how much he worked to improve it, and most of his strength resided in his legs and core. Talsin wasn’t bulky, but he was tall and fit. Alone, he was difficult for Cihro to lift, so combined with their belongings, he was an elf and a half. But Cihro found it in himself to get him off the ground, willed because it was only one of two options. Dragging Talsin along the shoulder of the road by the underarms didn’t count as an option.

He bowed forward under the weight, beads of sweat already congregating along his spine and temples. Talsin’s arms tightened encouragingly, bringing his chest flush with his shoulders, and his head swept by his. Cihro expected another quip or complaint when Talsin whispered, “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll try.”

They alternated between piggybacking and Talsin hobbling along on one foot, but even then he was half falling over Cihro with an arm draped over him, a tree eclipsing a shrub. Their progress was achingly slow, but it was progress. By nightfall Cihro was grateful to find a secluded area off the main road, tucked between some trees, and set up a fire.

Their tent was lost, but they had bedrolls. Cihro laid them side by side and helped Talsin sit and recline, once again ending with his hand under his upper back and a hand clenched in his. Just as Cihro was about to pull away, Talsin gripped his hand fiercely and drew him in close, his nose a breaths-width away.

All day, Cihro’d nearly forgotten his feelings, too preoccupied with the endeavour of getting Talsin to safety, but they came roaring back with the force of an ocean thrashing him against a seaside cliff before dragging him back in the undertow. He swallowed.

Talsin clutched his hand half in pain and half in gratitude, and while Cihro was overcome with emotion, he was also more than willing to endure some discomfort if it helped ease Talsin’s suffering. His turmoil was purely emotional and physical exhaustion, nothing that could compare, and he wasn’t about to let it get in the way of helping him.

“Thank you, Cihro,” Talsin said, giving him a strained but sincere smile. “I’d be completely fucked if it weren’t for you.”

“I – that’s what I’m here for,” Cihro said. “For making sure you’re not completely fucked.”

“A lot of people would have left me there,” he said.

“I’m not a lot of people,” Cihro countered. “And you’re not one of those people to me, either.”

Cihro had to pry his grip from him so he could fetch their rations and waterskins, and Talsin passed out shortly after eating. Cihro kept watch for as long as he could, embraced in the conversation of nightlife and the smell of embers, but he needed rest, too. He didn’t know how long they needed to maintain their snail pace for.

Before he rested, he laid propped on his side and gently swept aside some hair from Talsin’s forehead, curled from being damp. He sweat in his sleep, forehead knotted. Cihro found his hand again and Talsin squeezed it through his sleep. He seemed to settle, some, and Cihro nodded off.

They were left undisturbed and packed up in the morning. By afternoon, blessedly, Cihro’s prediction came true and a trader wheeled by on a cart and agreed to a ride. Cihro was so happy to be off his feet he could have cried, and they packed themselves in the back amongst a menagerie of miscellany. The man even lent some medicine to help ease Talsin’s pain, which Cihro compensated him for in gold.

Talsin’s head fell heavy on his shoulder, his splinted leg propped up on a cushion, pointed like an arrowhead towards the ocean in the far distance. Cihro felt soothed to feel him relax, not an ending to his pain so much as an interlude, but still a relief after so many hours wrought with it.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted Talsin so close, but he wouldn’t fight it. His injury almost seemed to strip away the carefully constructed layers he’d grown ever since his love revelation, really exposing the frailty of it all. He wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself.

There was no doubt in his mind that Talsin had noticed him inching away, physically. Did he know that he could depend on Cihro to be what he needed when he was down for the count? Was it a good excuse to be close again? Cihro doubted that the second it crossed his mind; Talsin’s needs were probably skewered with his injury. He wouldn’t be thinking about all of that. Would he?

Gods, feelings really made a mess of things that were simple.

“I guess telling you to break a leg when I mean good luck anytime in the future might be insensitive,” Cihro joked.

Talsin chuckled but tensed when the cart passed over a rock on the road and jostled. Cihro hesitated, but reached up to pet his hair, smoothing it behind his ears and combing the strands out of his eyes before falling into rhythmic strokes over the top of his head. Feelings or no feelings, someone who was hurting deserved to be taken care of. It didn’t need to be more complicated than that.

Talsin relaxed at his touch and slept again.

* * *

Cihro knew Stilben was a shithole. It was one of those things you learned the moment you stepped into the city and remembered for as long as you were there. It shouldn’t have surprised him when he was mugged, but it did – he always carried himself with confidence, was aware of his surroundings, and his position within the Clasp usually kept fellow criminals at bay. He dressed himself accordingly so to the right eyes, they saw him as equal.

His surprised ebbed when he discovered they were Myriad. There was three of them. They left him alive to limp back to the Clasp, but he didn’t. He fumbled with the key to his and Talsin’s lodgings, already stained red and slippery since he had both hands clamped over the stab wound in his stomach. His vision yawned, which didn’t help him align it, either. A dream-like fog settled over his head ever since they struck it against the stonework of a building in the alley nearby.

The key fell through his fingers with a clatter to the ground. He didn’t even want to _think_ about bending over to pick it up, so he leaned into the door with all of his weight and gave a feeble knock.

“Talsin,” he called, but his voice left shrivelled. More of a cry for help, than anything.

The door opened and he slumped inwards, but a familiar pair of arms caught him before he fell far. “Cihro, are you drunk—” Talsin stopped himself, feeling how damp Cihro’s tunic was, gutter water mixed with blood, and how ragged his breathing was. “Shit.”

One arm secured around him while the other swung the door closed and locked it. Gingerly, Talsin lowered him to the floor and laid him on his back. In a flash he was gone and back, a hand curling around the back of Cihro’s neck to support him. Cihro felt the cool, smooth press of glass to his lips. He didn’t remember closing his eyes.

“Drink,” Talsin demanded, and tipped the bottle. Warm, herbal mixture washed down his throat and Cihro gulped in relief as the wound stopped bleeding and patched over as if sewn. It still needed attention, the damage wasn’t completely reversed, and his head continued to swim laps, but he wasn’t knocking on death’s door anymore.

“Thanks,” he rasped, cracking open his eyes. Talsin’s face hovered, brows tweaked in concern as his eyes raced over the damage. Cihro wanted to tell him he looked beautiful – why did he never do that?

“Let’s get you to the bed,” Talsin said, and Cihro was unsure whether he was talking to himself or to him. Without waiting for an answer he slid his hand between his shoulder blades and the other under his knees and lifted him from the floor. The room swooped and Cihro nearly vomited, clapping his knuckles over his mouth, bile in the back of his throat.

“Slow down,” he gasped when Talsin settled as well as his stomach. “I hit—they hit my head.”

“They?” Talsin asked sharply, but he moved with heed, carrying him over to the bed. “Are they coming after you? Who did this to you?”

Cihro swallowed and almost made the mistake of shaking his head, but withheld. “No, they – dunno if they knew where I was staying. Only coming from.” He coughed, once, like a punctuation mark. “Myriad. Grabbing something, I think. Can’t think.”

Talsin kicked aside some bedding and lowered him to the mattress, head cushioned, touch tender as it retreated. If Cihro wasn’t weighed under what he assumed was a concussion at this point, his heart would’ve been kicking like a donkey. His body still had priorities, despite the enormity of his affection.

“Alright, I’ll be on guard, but treat you here,” Talsin said. “After that, we need to leave.”

Cihro made a noise of agreement, the best he could muster. They were originally set to leave at dawn, so now wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Talsin crouched by his side and cupped his face, drawing his eyes, thumb sweeping at a patch of dirt. Cihro’s heart gave a tiny, smitten pulse. His palm smelled like parchment, a balm against the rusty scent of blood and filth clogging his nose.

“Last day in Stilben and I get jumped,” Cihro said, cracking a weak grin, unconsciously drifting into Talsin’s touch.

“Shh,” Talsin whispered. “Much as I’m going to miss them, you should keep your quips to yourself right now, Cihro.”

Talsin’s hands dipped to pick at his shirt and the armour underneath. Cihro fell in and out of rest until he felt his bare chest exposed and his wound tended to. The sting woke him with a hiss as Talsin cleaned it, applied a salve, then bound it under gauze. It faded to a dull throb, like a second heartbeat.

Talsin then switched to his head, a warm, damp cloth in hand. With delicate, careful fingers he parted Cihro’s hair where it was dark and matted. The cut was gone, but the pads of his fingers brushed over a goose egg under the skin. Cihro tried not to wince.

“Should get some ice for that,” Talsin muttered to himself, barely audible. He met his eyes, his face tussling with several emotions, but quickly looked back to the bump, cleaning the spot and withdrawing.

Cihro felt wracked with pain more from the experience than anything, the memory of being stabbed. It wasn’t his first time being hit with a blade or bumping his noggin, but it was his first time being stabbed _and_ getting hit in the head at the same time. When he managed to steal a glimpse down, he also saw a smattering of purpling, bruised skin beginning to blossom, too. His brain felt sensitive, spongy and weak.

Talsin’s hands carefully felt over his legs and feet, sliding and squeezing. Cihro shifted a bit – it was purely clinical, checking for anything broken or more bruises and cuts, but he’d never had his hands in so many places before. So much for priorities. Luckily, it could’ve been read as general discomfort since most of his body was revolting.

Talsin nodded in satisfaction and began to dress him again. “We’ll be leaving soon,” he promised, gently slotting Cihro’s armour into place and buttoning his shirt. “I’m going to finish packing our things, get the horse ready, and we’ll be on our way to Westruun in no time.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Cihro said.

“Yes, it is, how astute of you. I don’t need to sleep, remember?” Talsin rose to his feet. “We’re leaving now; you’re my priority and I’m not going to let you stay in this piss poor excuse of a city any longer.”

Blood-slicked fingers grabbed Talsin’s wrist before he could go far. “The Clasp,” he said. “I need to leave a note.”

“I’ll write it,” Talsin said, easing his grasp and placing his hand back on the bed. “They’ll figure out what happened soon enough.”

Consciousness was a dance partner to Cihro, then, coming and going with others in a crowd. He stirred again when Talsin slid a hand under his arms, pulled them around his shoulders, and scooped him up a second time without asking if he could walk. Cihro could, if he tried, he managed to limp his way back to Talsin, but he was grateful he didn’t have to. He tucked his head under his jaw and curled his legs, fetal.

Talsin helped him climb into the horse saddle and swung up behind him. He draped a cloak over their front to obscure the blood and took the reigns around him, spurring their mare into a quiet canter, nothing too rough to disturb Cihro’s head more than necessary. He sunk back into Talsin, a warm pillar of support, his head listing sideways. He felt Talsin’s face dip, a cheek pressed into his temple. Not enough pressure to hurt, but enough to be known.

They exited Stilben with little fuss. Cihro heard a chime of Talsin’s voice when guards addressed them. He caught snatches of words, ‘friend’ and ‘drunk’ and a ‘farewell’, but he was more fascinated by the vibrations against his back.

Relief blanketed him once they were on the open road again. Distance mattered. Outside of the city, Cihro’s thoughts gained a little coherency, crystallizing like stars on a clear night.

He could have died, and he would have died with his feelings for Talsin never spoken aloud. Talsin would have found him face down in an alley with no knowledge of how deeply Cihro felt. The thought made him ache and he tensed, mouth twitching open like a landlocked fish.

“Talsin,” he murmured, hesitant, but emboldened by his head knocked ajar. “I should – tell you something.”

Talsin shook his head, the arms bracketing him clenching closer. “You don’t need to tell me anything right now,” he said, as softly as ever. “Do me a favour a rest, Cihro. You can tell me later.”

Cihro almost argued, but stopped. He knew he might regret it when his head wasn’t muddled with a concussion. Maybe he could leave a note, something for a worst case scenario. But was it worse for Talsin to know after and not before? To have Cihro die on him and only then know, all potential sunken in the same breath it was realized?

He wasn’t sure if Talsin’s request was a blessing or a sentence and fell into a restless sleep.


	7. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro introduces Talsin and Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after 'Brother' from Four and a Half Elves.

Cihro stepped out of his hug with Talsin. It was both shorter and longer than he would've liked it to be; his heart still fluttered whenever they met up again, no matter the time or distance. "There's somebody I want you to meet."

He waved to Day. His brother stepped forward, meekly holding his hat in both hands over his stomach. It was cute and polite, but Cihro realized it was also a method of shielding himself from whatever verbal harm came his way.

He'd explained most of the situation on the way to Kymal: he and Talsin traveled together on and off while doing different jobs. Talsin wasn't Clasp, but worked in a similar vein. They'd been friends for almost ten years now and trusted each other with their lives. 

He neglected to mention that he was in love with him and that he was a drow. The former was for him to decide when to say, if at all, and the latter was for Talsin to reveal.

"This is Dayereth," he said. Jeez, how to explain. "We, uh...you remember that human man my mom was seeing ages ago before I ran off? I guess they had a kid. He's my half-brother, we met during a job in the Crystalfen Caverns."

Talsin's brows arched high. He wasn't often caught off guard. They quickly lowered and he smiled, soaking in Day's appearance: the similarities and the differences, anything unique to him. He grinned sideways at Cihro.

"Do you often meet family underground, Cihro?"

"This is the first. Should I go back and check to see if there's more I missed?"

"I’d say if you want to be safe, you should, yes."

Cihro saw the hesitation flicker across Day's face, his eyes focusing on the long, elegant point of Talsin's ears, the height, the way he oozed confidence. He was intimidated. His eyes darted between them, too, puzzled and adjusting to their easy banter.

"He's not a prick," Cihro assured Day, stepping closer in an effort to bridge the gap. "Most of the time."

"How dare you," Talsin laughed. "I'm of the highest company. Dayereth, don't listen to your brother." He extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, truly. Any family of Cihro’s, given you’re in good standings, is a friend of mine."

"Hi." Day lowered his hat and shook his hand. He seemed to relax at the contact. "I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I’m sure. I regret that I haven’t heard as much of you.” He waved to them both, relieving Cihro of one of his bags and slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s fix that over some drinks, shall we? I’m dying to hear of this underground-excursion-meeting of yours.”

* * *

Talsin was a minute out the door of the tavern the following morning when Day smacked his arm. "Okay, spill it. Do you like Talsin?"

Cihro scoffed, but his heart screamed in panic. If it was obvious to Day after watching them for all of one evening, then Talsin surely must've picked up on the scent of his feelings by now.

"Of course I like him, he's my friend," he said, dismissive.

"No, that’s not what I meant. Do you love him?"

"I mean, yeah, we've been friends for a long time. I love you, too."

Day ran a hand over his face. "Are you _in_ love with Talsin, Cihro?"

Cihro frowned hard at him, threw a glance at the door, then leaned in. "If I say yes, will you shut the hell up about it?"

Day’s eyes twinkled and he beamed, nodding twice in quick succession. Cihro sighed and leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“So, uh, when did you - how long?” Day asked, fidgeting.

“A while. I dunno, exactly. Before I met you.” He lowered his hand and swept his drink in close on the table, finding himself in need of it more than he was before. It was only juice, but maybe he could add some rum. Despite telling Day to can it, he couldn’t commit to enforcing it; maybe he needed someone to talk to about it more than he knew. “How could you tell?”

“I dunno, you - I kind of wondered when you talked about him before we met him, but I wasn’t sure? The way you talked about him almost went a little beyond respect. You hide it pretty well, but I’ve gotten to know you pretty well, and you haven’t talked about anyone like that before.”

Cihro brought his glass to his lips. “So? I could’ve talked about any friend like that. I don’t really have a lot of friends to begin with.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference,” Day insisted. “I dunno how to explain it. It’s like I could tell you were holding yourself back or trying to keep your voice in check too much. If he was just a friend, I don’t think you would’ve been worried about that.”

“And?” Cihro prompted.

“And then when I saw you two together, it was like a confirmation,” Day explained, turning to face him in the booth, his breakfast forgotten. “The flirting I could do without, but - you know when you see two people getting along and you think to yourself ‘they seem like a couple’? ‘They seem like they really love each other.’ You two give off that impression.”

Cihro groaned and downed his drink all in one. “I bet we’ve been giving off that vibe long before we were - before I was interested in him,” he said. “We just - we’ve always gotten along really well.”

“Then why don’t you say anything?” Day pressed. “You never know, he might like you, too.”

“It’s - complicated,” Cihro said, but even the suggestion that Talsin might feel the same from something other than his own longing set his heart on fire. “I don’t wanna ruin our friendship, and he deserves better than me.”

Day’s brow furrowed. He glanced to the door, then back to Cihro, and lowered his voice. “I dunno Talsin that well yet, but have you considered that maybe he doesn’t want someone that isn’t you?” 

Cihro swallowed, eyes trained on the table. “No,” he mumbled, because he really hadn’t. 

“I mean, obvious ‘you shouldn’t put yourself down and anybody’d be lucky to have you’ aside,” Day said, “yeah, I don’t get it.”

“If you were in my position, you would. And even if you weren’t, you’d still be a nervous wreck,” he said, shoving him playfully. “So maybe go easy on your big brother, he’s working it out.”

“If I go easy on you, you’re never gunna do anything,” Day complained.

“Maybe. But don’t you dare breathe a word about this to him. If I’m gunna say anything, ever, it’s gunna be on my terms. Got it?”

“Okay,” Day conceded, pouting, returning to his plate of food. “But seriously, if you never say anything and you don’t know how he feels, it’ll never go away.”

“Noted, love expert. Now get off my dick.”

“And,” Day continued, completely ignoring his warning, but softer, his face falling, fork in hand, “there might come a point where you miss your chance and you’ll spend a lifetime wondering what your answer would’ve been. We shouldn’t take love for granted, or sit on it.”

Regardless of Day’s experience level with romance, Cihro felt the weight of his words hold true for any avenue of life. He felt the hurt behind that one, both in Day and himself. He eventually nodded, solemn, and they returned to dine in peace and quiet.


	8. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro confesses to Talsin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the events in 'Closure' from Four and a Half Elves.
> 
> All my love to [grey](https://greyfen.tumblr.com/) for lending me Talsin’s voice on this one. <3

Cihro lead Talsin past Terrah’s outermost abodes, approaching the base of the mountain wall that circled the valley. The tremors lessened the more distance they put between themselves and the village, but the more Cihro’s heart rabbited inside his ribs as if to compensate. Somehow, his balance was worse when the earthquakes weren’t there to keep him on his toes.

His feet knew the way, old muscle memory kicking in from childhood. He found the little path, motioned for Talsin, and they began their trek upwards. Talsin trailed him without hesitation, intrigued and uncharacteristically reticent.

“We’re not going all the way to the top, are we,” he said, breaking his silence, slightly winded.

“No,” Cihro said, equally breathless. He was built to sprint, not climb. “Almost there. Quit your complaining.”

“If you think that’s complaining, then you are in for a treat, Cihro.”

“Save your breath.”

True to his word, Cihro split off the main path towards a small outcropping. Up here, the evening air was crisp, less stifling than it was in the center of the valley. The wind was a much-needed kiss of cool against his heated face, half from the climb, half from his own emotions throttling him. It carried the scent of pines, spruce and unadulterated earth.

He landed his hands on his hips and gestured outwards as Talsin joined his side. “See? Hope it was worth it.”

Talsin followed his gesture and his eyes widened. While not quite the same view provided by the top of the cliff, the valley still spilled out before them, the sun lowering itself onto the jagged peaks of the mountains in the west.

Cihro stole a moment to appreciate Talsin’s open wonder as he absorbed a sight Cihro grew up with. He was in his drow form after a bit of convincing – he wasn’t the first dark elf to grace Terrah with their presence – and the vivid orange of the sky almost made his skin a deep pink. His pale hair soaked up any surrounding colour, reflecting the warmth of the environment.

“You won’t find a view quite like that in the underdark, no,” Talsin agreed, shooting him a grin and spiking Cihro out of his daze. He smiled in return, trying not to appear startled.

“I used to come up here all the time when I was a kid,” he explained. “Probably not the safest place for a kid to be, but I’ve never been afraid of heights.”

He turned to a stone slab jutting from the earth and sat with his back to it. He patted the spot next to him and Talsin obliged, one leg extended in front of him and the other bent to support his wrist. Cihro mirrored his pose with the opposite leg and arm, creating a frame for their picturesque scene.

He rolled his fingers into fists, chewing the inside of his cheek. He didn’t remember it ever being this hard in the past – confessing, anyway. Then again, none of his former love interests were his best friends of nine, nearly ten years. Cihro could always pursue men with the assurance that Talsin would be there if things went south, that he always had a friend to fall back on if his romantic life didn’t pan out. To pursue Talsin was to put that safety net at risk.

But he was going to do it and he wouldn’t leave the perch until he did. He promised Day as much. Getting closure on the death of his father was ending a chapter of his life that went on for too long. Whatever came of their conversation, be it a continued friendship or more, could be the beginning of a new one.

Talsin continued to be eerily quiet, bobbing and swaying his foot to some soundless tune. He must’ve sensed Cihro wanted to talk about something and wasn’t pushing him to start. Cihro could’ve laughed. The silence must have been torture for him, so he should relieve him of it, if nothing else.

“So,” he began, gusting out a breath with it. He threw one last glance at Talsin. Talsin raised a brow and smiled, open to receive. Cihro’s eyes fell to Talsin’s hand, resting between them, fingers lax. Should he take it? No, that might be pressuring. He swallowed and locked his gaze dead ahead once more. He breathed in, held it, then slowly exhaled.

“I didn’t bring you up here just to stare at some rocks and the sun. You probably already had an idea of that, though, and maybe you already had an idea of what I wanna talk about, too.

“I brought you up here because I wanted to talk to you about how I feel about you, because..I have feelings for you, T. The, uh, romantic kind.” The worst over, Cihro barrelled into the rest. “I’ve felt this way for a while now. The only reason I haven’t told you sooner is because I’ve been scared. I didn’t wanna take a chance and ruin our friendship because all of my other relationships have ended in disaster and I couldn’t see how this one would be any different.

“But Day talked to me,” he explained. “He told me I couldn’t know and that even if nothing changes and we stay friends, you deserve to know and he thinks I’ll feel better for getting it off my chest.”

He didn’t know if that was true, yet. It felt like whatever he was getting off his chest was ballooning up in his head and making him feel red and feverish. Maybe once he gave it some time.

“He said I should talk about those fears I have because I shouldn’t ignore my feelings or try and get rid of them because it’s impossible to when I don’t know how you feel in return.” For someone trained in the art of killing, this was probably the least delicate he’d ever been in his entire life. He felt like he was speaking with all the grace of a cart hurtling down a hill, breaking its wheels and body on all the stones along the way. “That’s..that.”

He glanced back, borderline timid. Talsin continued to gaze forward. The only difference in his posture was a hand raised to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun’s dying rays. He looked thoughtful, but not uncomfortable, digesting. Cihro waited, heart erratic and trying to remember to _breathe_ , damn it.

“I,” Talsin started at last, holding the word, suspended, “suspected you may have had those feelings, Cihro.” There was gravity to his voice, like he was carefully hand-picking every single word. He lowered his hand to his knee, eyes shifting down to his boot.

“I was always a little cautious about pressing or acknowledging it. I was worried that if I said anything about it, it would affect our friendship adversely or make things awkward between us. And I don’t really want that to happen.” He paused. Cihro saw his lips bend in slightly, thinning. They parted, and his expression softened.

“I – I’ve had dreams like this before,” he continued, almost at a whisper. “Perhaps I’m dreaming right now, although given the fact that I’m _actually_ sweating, that’s probably not the case. But I’ve had dreams about you saying those words to me and what I would say in response. I’ve sometimes worried that I’ve seen behaviour in you or seen signs that I imagined because I wanted that dream to be true.”

He waved a hand, dismissive of himself, eyes back on the horizon. Cihro blinked. There was a thread of something under all that he said, an implication, something he was unconsciously dancing around. Before he could determine what it was, Talsin glanced at him, soaked in his expression just as Cihro was, and chuckled, smile crooked.

“Let me be clear, here, Cihro – I do feel the same way. I love you. I think I have for some time. And while it goes without saying that you’re incredibly fortunate to have my affection, I think perhaps it’s true that I’m far more fortunate to have yours.”

Cihro’s breath caught. Now he felt like he was dreaming, but only the real Talsin could be so poetic and heartfelt. The striking warmth in his chest was almost painful, too big to be fake, and he smiled, the faintest mist in his eyes. He collected himself, drying his eyes.

“I – wow. I don’t wanna cheapen what you just said by saying that’s not true, so I’ll just say – thanks.” He cleared his throat and cast his gaze into the valley. “As amazing as it is to hear all of that, it sounds like we’re both worried about the same thing, which is ruining our friendship.”

“Well, if you don’t want to ruin our friendship and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, then I think, mathematically, nobody does, and therefore I think we’ll be fine.”

Cihro gave a weak laugh. In the face of Talsin’s logic, it all seemed so simple and difficult to argue. Normally their roles were reversed; Cihro was down to earth and simplifying and Talsin was the one overthinking.

“You always were better at math,” he said.

Talsin leaned ever so slightly in his direction. “I imagine, you know, it’ll take some getting used to. We have to find our own path and what we’re both comfortable with, but I think we can do that. We’ve done harder. Even if things, to play devil’s advocate for a moment, didn’t work out the way we wanted, it doesn’t mean either of us would stop caring about the other, I suspect.”

“No. Definitely not.”

“So we can try it, see where it goes – I mean, I’m fairly certain of my feelings at this point, and you sound equally certain. So, I suggest we, uh, we move forward.”

Cihro swallowed thickly and nodded, once, meeting his eyes. Of all the directions he expected this to take, this wasn’t one of them. Even in his imaginary best case scenario, he didn’t know what would happen. Talsin continued to defy his expectations of the sweetness he was capable of.

“I think we can do that.”

Talsin returned his nod, then his smile turned wry. “I have to warn you, though, loathe as I am to admit inexperience in _any_ avenue of life, romantic relationships were never something I was privy to at home and my secretive nature led me to avoid them once I came to the surface. So I may be out of practise even though there was never really any practise to begin with.

“I’m entirely inexperienced in this very small regard,” Talsin finished, pinching two fingers together for emphasis. Cihro snickered. “Which, given my age, is, well, _ugh_.”

“By drow standards, you’re kind of a baby still, aren’t you?” Cihro asked. He held a hand to his chest in mock horror. “Am I robbing the cradle? Is that what I’m doing?”

“Yes, you’re a baby snatcher, we should probably turn you into the guards and leave this place.”

“I think they’ll be on my side, I grew up here."

“Ah, I’ll just head up to them and go, ‘Excuse me, I’ve been child-napped by this creepy old man.’” Talsin snickered as well. “No, I’ve had other things on my mind recently. Unfortunately, you’re very distracting.”

“Unfortunately? I take that as a compliment.”

“Well, since it’s my attention you’re drawing, you probably should. But to put our wonderful banter aside for a moment, I do mean that. I’ll probably be fumbling through the dark in the beginning, which is not something drow tend to do since we can usually see in it.”

“That’s all fine,” Cihro assured him, cupping a hand over his. “I guess, in a way, I’ll be fumbling, too. I’m not _not_ experienced with romantic relationships, you know that, but they weren’t, y’know, my best friend for ten years. They were just people I knew for, I dunno, however long: a month, two months?”

“They were also probably less charming,” Talsin pointed out.

“I dunno, you’ve met paladins, right?”

“I have.”

“They’re violently charming. Obnoxiously so.”

“Charming in a brutish way, I suppose.” Talsin shook his head. “I like to think of our past relationships, be they romantic or platonic or whatever, as practise for the ones in the future.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Cihro, I was alone for a very, very long time.” His hand twitched under his, as if it was going to clench, then stopped. “Even before I came up here, I was alone. So let me be clear again – for all the humour, for all the jokes, I’m very glad that you’re the one who found me.”

“I’m not sure who found who,” Cihro said. “I think there was a good part of me that was buried for a really long time, and you brought him back.”

“So you’re the cradle snatcher and I’m the grave robber,” Talsin teased, grinning, slipping his hand out to reach an arm toward him. For the first time in months, Cihro felt like he could embrace his touch, no longer shy away and pretend he didn’t want it. He scooted closer and Talsin shuffled to meet him, draping an arm around his shoulders.

Cihro didn’t realize he was tense until he relaxed, wholly and completely. “We’ll figure it out at some point, which way it goes,” he said, leaning into his side. Talsin shivered with a laugh.

A comfortable silence settled over them. The sun had nearly set, eager to sleep. Stars began to dust the sky in clusters and the double moons brightened in their sling as the oranges and reds faded to blue and indigo. Cihro heard the chirp of night life from the conifers, the wind sweeping through the valley like a whistling song.

“The world – this world, at least – tends not to be too kind to those who work alone, in my experience,” Talsin said.

“I’m never really alone,” Cihro said. “I am and I’m not – with the Clasp, with you and Day.”

“The Clasp is a little bit like having your enemies behind you rather than in front of you, isn’t it? But let’s not spoil the moment by talking of them.” Talsin’s hand dropped to his arm. “Whatever comes from this point, from this day, we’ll face it together.”

“So, it’s almost like nothing’s changed,” Cihro said.

“It means I get to make up more names for you now, but no, other than that, nothing has changed.”

“This feels weird to say, but this means – we’re dating.” Cihro paused, tasting the word. “Right?”

“I mean, that’s a rather low way of putting it,” Talsin said, puckering his mouth as if he could taste it, too. “But yes, yes we are.”

“How would you put it?”

“We’re _courting_ , Cihro,” Talsin said, squeezing to the point of rocking them and shooting him a horrible grin.

“Ugh, you make it sound like I’m from some other noble family trying to woo you. I hate to break it to you, but I was born and raised in the dirt, Talsin. You can see it right there.” He pointed to Terrah.

“Yes, you’re the dirt noble,” Talsin laughed.

Silence again. The gentle back and forth between banter and sincerity felt familiar, like Cihro didn’t have to commit to one or the other. He could just be himself as it came to him and that their way of addressing their feelings didn’t have to be uncomfortable other than the initial dive off the cliff.

“Coming up here, I had all these concerns,” Cihro said.

“What most rankles at you?”

“Nothing, that’s the thing. I – all my anxieties leading up to this point feel silly. I kinda regret not saying something sooner, ‘cuz I’ve felt this way for almost a year now. I stupidly thought, ‘Oh, I’ll just put these aside, I’ll get over it, I can’t risk anything.’ I wasn’t even taking a risk to begin with, apparently.”

“Your concerns are real, they always were. I shared them, for gods’ sake, but it doesn’t mean that they’re correct. It doesn’t mean they’ll be a problem, but it’s understandable for us to fear them. If any of them do become an issue, we’ll deal with them together. But you don’t have to be afraid, not of this, at least.” He gestured between them with a finger, heart to heart.

“Okay,” Cihro breathed. He nodded and lowered his head to his shoulder. “I trust you.” 

Talsin lifted his other arm to wrap him in a side-hug, warm and tight and safe. Cihro felt his ear rest on the crown of his head, and a nose brushed into his hair, rustling it with his breath. They stayed like that until the night completely enveloped the valley.

“Was Day right?” Talsin asked eventually, his voice soft. “Do you feel better for getting it off your chest?”

“Yeah.” Cihro huddled close, his heart a steady, beating drum. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the baby joke: Talsin is 105/106 here.


	9. Flee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro and Talsin’s first kiss.

They always said a mountain was more treacherous on the way down than it was on the way up.

People said it because it was true. Cihro knew that. He grew up in the beating heart of the Cliffkeep mountains and was more familiar with its dangers than someone from the prairies or foothills. The Earth Ashari taught him well and he lost his father to one of its killers, the landslide.

Loose or damp stone, rickety bridges, the descent to Fort Daxio had it all. Talsin assured them that if any of them slipped he had a spell that would slow their fall, and Cihro breathed a little easier for it. It couldn’t stop boulders from above, though, and Cihro found himself glancing skyward at every pebble that tumbled past his head. 

On one such glance, a shadow passed between clouds, there and gone, a wingspan larger than a typical bird of prey and - was that a tail? And a mane?

“Sh, stop,” he warned the others. Day and Talsin obeyed, quirking their heads. “Did you see that?”

They looked up. Cihro strained his hearing. It was early summer, but this far north and this high up, the wind still cut over his ears. The beat-beat of wings grew closer, then vanished. 

The shape reappeared on the craggy lip above their path. Two clawed paws grasped the edge, dug into the stone, and a vaguely humanoid head crested between them. Large, orange, leathery wings unfurled, and the sun cast through them made them glow a violent red. A tail shot out from over its shoulder and something white-hot exploded in Cihro’s leg. He gasped and crumpled to a knee, glancing down to see a needle-like protrusion jutting out of his calf. Talsin swore.

“It’s a manticore,” he shouted, pulling Cihro to his feet. “Run!”

They bolted. Their path was wide, graciously, with the cliff reaching towards the sky on their right and falling into a sheer drop on their left. Cihro heard it launch into the air behind them in pursuit, releasing some kind of half-person, half-monster bellow in their wake. 

Day ran slowest but Cihro kept behind him, tossing a look over his shoulder when he was sure of his next few steps. Its claws were extended and its tail whipped back and forth, its mouth open to reveal a circular row of jagged teeth. The muscles in his shoulder where he was bitten by the gibbering mouther twitched in anticipation of a bite. It was going to catch up and it would even if Cihro and Talsin sprinted at full speed. 

He redirected his gaze in time for Talsin to realize the same and shout, “There’s a cave ahead!”

A few more needles rained in their direction. One caught Day in the back of the shoulder and he hissed, but the others missed. The two in the lead pivoted and ducked into the small, jagged opening, but Cihro was forced to throw himself onto his stomach as the manticore roared past, its claws grazing his back. It soared up and circled around. Cihro rolled himself into a nearby bush and hid before it could lay eyes on him again.

It landed with a rumble of earth in front of the cave, jamming its face into the crevice and thrusting a furred - feathered? - arm inside. He held his breath. It scrabbled and struggled, its tail smacking uselessly against the stone around it, unable to find an opening to slot it through. It turned and snarled, its nostrils crinkling and expanding, smelling for him.

It stalked in his direction. Talsin and Day’s heads poked out of the hole, searching and scanning. Based on their wide-eyed desperation, he guessed they couldn’t see him. At least they were safe.

The manticore locked eyes with his bush and pounced. Cihro rolled out as its claws flattened the shrub. It lashed again - gods it was fast - teeth snapping closed inches from his nose, arms boxing in both sides of his head. He was blasted with the overwhelming stench of the thing, choking raw meat and wet fur, and he almost retched. 

He drew his shortsword and swiped it across the face. It screeched and reared back, paws kneading at the gash. He threw his legs over his head and somersaulted backwards into a crouch. He booked it again, but it struck out blindly with its claws, catching him in the side. He heard the tearing of cloth. The blow pushed him forward and even though it _burned_ he used the momentum to speed his way into the cavern after his boys. 

He staggered right into Talsin’s arms, who immediately hauled him backwards. The manticore’s face filled the cave opening again, furious, but it was the same as before, all anger but unable to reach inside, its claws coming short and slicing air. Day gave a little closed-mouth squeak every time. 

It released one final, feral growl, rubbed its bleeding nose, crouched, then took off. The beat of wings receded. Other sounds filled the silence it left behind: Cihro’s panting, the drip of water on earth, the breeze whistling over the cave entrance. He was trembling, all of his weight braced on one leg. He practically clung to Talsin. 

“It’s gone,” he breathed, arms curled against Talsin’s chest. He gave a single hop to adjust himself and stand straighter, untying the knot that was his entire body. 

Talsin hefted him up by the elbows, but then pulled him all the way to his toes, and then there was a mouth pressed firmly, almost desperately against his. Cihro twitched, eyes widening, and Talsin withdrew before he could react. 

“Sorry,” he gasped, nearly dropping him. “I shouldn’t have–”

Cihro curled a hand around the back of his neck and dragged him back down, capturing him in a kiss again. A real kiss, one long enough for him to remember. He tilted his head, lost his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and placed his other hand on his waist. Talsin sank into him, reciprocated, and all of the tension and pain drained out of him like a wave rejoining the ocean. Talsin's hands slid up from his elbows, over his arms and shoulders until they cradled his neck, thumbs grazing his jaw. 

It was corny as hell, but his lips were every bit as soft and supple as Cihro imagined them being. 

“Ugh,” he heard from beside them. Oh, right. Day. “Gross.” 

Cihro promptly flipped him off without breaking contact. Day huffed and swiveled away. He felt a smile quirk Talsin’s mouth and Cihro grinned, breaking the kiss. He stole a moment to appreciate the flush of Talsin’s cheeks. It was a colour unique to him, a perfect blend of red and purple: magenta. It could’ve been there because they were running for their lives, but he liked to think he was at least partially responsible. Talsin wore his concern and relief openly and his eyes were gentle. And-oops, Cihro was bleeding on him. He cautiously stepped back.

“Not exactly how I pictured our first kiss going, but I’ll take it,” he joked.

“Try not to scare me like that,” Talsin scolded. 

“I’ll try.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And maybe have an encore later?”

Day mimicked retching sounds, louder this time. 

“If we’re not dead, I think that can be arranged.” 

Cihro reached down to yank the needle out of his leg. He winced, but it helped. He tucked it into his bag. “A souvenir. Even though it’s gone, I think we should rest here awhile, just in case.”

“Are you two done yet?” Day called over his shoulder. “Have you two seriously never-? No, I don’t want-I don’t need to know.”

“We’re done,” Cihro said. Day turned to them, beet-red and pouting. Cihro couldn’t help a fond smile and reached out to extract the needle from his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. You too.” His words resonated with power, and the worst of Cihro’s wounds stitched up, magically. He mumbled something else in Sylvan and his own arm did the same. 

The three of them sat to collect themselves. Day pulled out his lute and rations and water were passed around. Cihro sat close to Talsin, and out of Day’s line of sight, Talsin held his hand. 


	10. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro tries to help Talsin go back to sleep after a nightmare.

Cihro couldn't remember the exact moment he awoke. He stared at empty bedding beside him and behind that, the folds of the tent wall shifting in the wind. A chill crawled up his spine and he groped for the covers sitting around his waist. His fingers bumped into resistance. He blinked and rolled his head.

Talsin sat next to him, his shoulders falling and rising with effort. A few beads of sweat pooled against what skin Cihro could see on the back of his neck. This wasn't the first time he'd woken up to a sight like this, but early on it was an empty bed and tent. From there it upgraded to Talsin sitting at the end of their bed to this, with Talsin beside him, knees to his chest.

He’d hoped, maybe in vain, that his nightmares would become less frequent when they started sharing a bed. He was right, in the beginning, but they flared up again, as if the visions had a way of creeping up between their skin.

Talsin glanced as Cihro propped himself on an elbow, then pushed himself upright. He grimaced as something cracked in his arm. Talsin smiled, but it looked as if it exhausted him.

“No need to get up on my behalf, C,” he said, his voice hushed but warm. “The old man needs his rest.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cihro said, rubbing his eyes. He ran a hand over his face and laid the other on Talsin's shoulder to balance himself. “You should rest, T, we've got a lotta traveling ahead of us.”

“Should, could. It's irrelevant, I don't need to.”

“But you like to.”

Talsin frowned. “Not when it’s plagued by nightmares. I would feel more rested meditating for a few hours than lying down for a full night absolutely teeming with them.”

Cihro squeezed his shoulder. “Have you tried going back to sleep?”

“No, not once in all of my life on the surface have I tried going back to sleep after waking up from a vivid nightmare,” Talsin scoffed. “Yes, I have, and they pick up right where they left off. Anytime I close my eyes, I see them.”

“Hm.”

Up until now Cihro had sat with him and huddled close to watch the sun rise together in silence. Once or twice he’d fallen asleep on Talsin’s shoulder despite his best efforts to stay awake. He knew that this early morning would be one of those situations and he didn’t want to doze off while Talsin suffered alone.

“Would talking about it help?” he offered.

“It's nothing you haven't heard already,” Talsin said. He drew his knees closer to his chest. “That's part of what makes them so frustrating. I can dream the same dream a thousand times and it gets no less terrifying.” He turned to him fully, the pale purple of his eyes cutting through the night. “Do you think that makes me weak?”

“No,” Cihro said quickly. “If anything, it makes you more durable. Dreams only get you when you let your guard down.” He grinned. “They're too scared of you while you're awake.”

Talsin smiled. “As they should be.” The smile dropped. “You really should go back to sleep, though. I’ll keep watch with Day. This is how it is, there’s no need to worry.”

Cihro leaned over to kiss him lightly. Talsin inhaled sharply, then exhaled and leaned into it, all the tension in his shoulders falling with it. Cihro reclined and patted the empty space beside him.

“It doesn’t have to be. Humour me for a sec and lie down.”

Talsin raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think you have the solution to my incessant night terrors?”

“It won't be a solution unless it works, but you have to try it first. Lie down.” He patted the bed roll again.

Talsin sighed and obeyed. Cihro smiled, rolled so his back faced Talsin’s front, and nestled up into him. He drew up the covers, then found his wrists and pulled so his arms were draped around him. 

“Alright. You’re gunna put your arms around me like this.”

“I feel so sleepy already,” Talsin muttered, his breath rustling Cihro’s hair. "It's called _spooning_."

“Shh. Relax.” Cihro settled into his embrace, found one of Talsin’s hands and loosely thread their fingers together to give it a squeeze. “Just focus on my breathing. Count my breaths, and if you ever get distracted by whatever you saw in your nightmares or your mind wanders, start over at one.”

“Counting sheep was never really my thing,” Talsin said. Cihro elbowed him. 

“It’s not counting sheep. Just try it. If it doesn’t work, no harm done, right?”

“If you insist.”

“It’s a trick I learned from Damen. I sometimes do it while doing yoga if my thoughts are all over the place.”

A comfortable silence passed. Cihro deliberately slowed and deepened his breathing. He felt Talsin relax against him and the shared warmth of the blankets returned.

“My dreams are pretty boring, y’know,” Cihro said, on the brink of sleep. “Maybe if I talk about one that’ll put you back to sleep.”

Talsin laughed and hugged him closer.


	11. Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Clasp won’t let Cihro travel to Vasselheim with Talsin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place shortly before 'Ties' from Four and a Half Elves.

Cihro paused with his key above the lock. He heard Talsin from the other side, humming, and the ache in his chest twisted like a cruel knife. He sighed, swallowed, and unlocked the door. Sure enough, his boyfriend was packing and sorting on the desk. He turned at his entrance and beamed. 

“Cihro,” he exclaimed, hopping over. Talsin hugged him to his chest, then snatched his hand to drag him over to the window. The curtains were drawn aside and the window itself was cracked open, a cool sea breeze blowing in off the water. He squeezed Cihro against his side. “Look at that view. I’m sure there are other places in Emon with a better one, but at what cost?"

Cihro blinked. He hadn’t been to their room yet. From the window the Ozmit Sea glittered and twinkled with the late afternoon sun, iridescent. Normally it would’ve been breathtaking despite the thousands of times he'd seen it before, but now it just made him think of the hundreds of miles forming into an endless gap between him and his partner.

Talsin squeezed him tighter, then grasped his shoulders to turn Cihro to face him. Cihro couldn’t quite meet his gaze, felt his body yield to Talsin’s movements like a rag doll.

“I know you’ve never been to Vasselheim before, so I took the liberty of picking up all we’d need while you were out,” he gushed. “All that's left is the ship. It’s a long trip, but well worth it. I know we’re traveling under stressful circumstances, but once my family business is sorted I can—Cihro, my dear, are you alright?”

Cihro closed his eyes. When he reopened them to look at Talsin, he was obscured by tears. The mood shifted at once and Talsin’s hands slid from his shoulders to cup his face, his brows creasing in concern, seeking an answer.

“I can’t go,” Cihro said, swiping his wrist across his eyes to clear up his sight. 

Anger flashed across Talsin’s face like the distant threat of lightning, though Cihro knew it wasn’t directed at him, then switched to uncertainty. Talsin chewed his lip, opened his mouth, then closed it. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed they’d just let me go,” Cihro continued. “I was stupid to think they would. And even if they did let me go, they probably wouldn’t let both Day and me leave at the same time. And—I dunno if I could leave him now. Not after what he saw in Kraghammer." He sucked in a shaky, wet breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Talsin assured him. “Don’t be sorry.”

"It feels like we only just got together, and I—" He attempted another breath and was less successful. Talsin's thumbs swiped at the tears escaping his eyes. "I want to be there with you. I want to have your back. Whatever your family is doing, I don't trust them."

"I know, I know." Talsin drew his face against his chest and stepped closer, cradling the back of his head. This close, Cihro felt him trembling. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or fear or something else altogether. "I am capable of taking care of myself, though. This won't be our first time apart, and hardly our last."

"I just don't want something to happen to you while I'm not there."

"I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't. I have a good danger sense, the moment something feels amiss, I'll take action. I have allies over there as well." His hands lowered to stroke up and down his back. "I won't be alone, not really, and you know how to reach me."

"But your family—they're so much worse than you just going off on a job, and we're usually on the same continent."

Talsin's hands slowed, paused, then resumed. "I know," he admitted, quieter, accepting the truth. "It will be hard to leave knowing you and your brother won't be with me."

Cihro reached around his waist to fist his hands into Talsin's jacket. He didn’t fully cry. He refused to let the Clasp saying no to his request to travel overseas be the thing that broke him. He'd save it for when the situation was worse. Hopefully it never reached that point. 

He knew Talsin wouldn’t ask him to go despite what the Clasp ordered. Cihro would follow him to the end of the earth or the bottom of the ocean’s crushing depths if he asked him to, but they both knew it was an unnecessary sacrifice for now. And there was no arguing Talsin into staying, either. He knew the risks and ignoring his family posed a greater threat than responding to their call.

Maybe if he held on tight enough, he could keep a piece of Talsin with him. 

He eventually withdrew once he felt more grounded, the ship of his heart no longer at risk of capsizing. Talsin hands stayed firmly planted on his shoulders.

"Think about it this way," he said, touching a finger to the underside of his chin. "We're on a clock, yeah? We only have so much time left together, which means enjoying each other's company and living every second of it to its fullest. Following that, you'll have more time to bond with your brother without your pesky boyfriend getting in the way." 

Cihro gave a single, if not reluctant nod. Talsin smiled, then dipped his head for a light kiss. 

"I dunno what I did to deserve you," Cihro said as Talsin rose. "I've asked myself that every day since Terrah."

"I ask myself the same."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Talsin released him and stepped past him, towards the door. "Enough wallowing in our self-pity, C, we have a city to explore and drinks to drink. Whatever suits our fancy."

"I thought you loved wallowing," Cihro joked, and felt a smile crack his face for the first time since that morning. 

"I do, but professional wallowing must be done alone. I have plenty of time for that on the ship."

Cihro stole one last glance over his shoulder at the ocean view, taunting him. He reached out to snap the window closed and drew the curtains.


	12. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talsin asks Cihro if a future without the Clasp is possible.

Cihro dosed. He wasn’t fully committed to falling asleep and he drifted between unconsciousness and wakefulness like a boat on the waves. He laid on his stomach, shirtless, with his arms acting as an extra cushion above his head on his pillow. Talsin sat upright next to him reading and occasionally roused him with a comment or jibe.

Cihro found himself roused again, not by Talsin’s voice but by the gentlest touch of skin. He felt fingers lightly trace the ring of a scar on his far shoulder from the gibbering mouther, then follow the flowing ink of his tattoos. He sighed. They came to rest, almost hesitantly, on the brand between his shoulder blades. Cihro tensed without meaning to, but relaxed when Talsin traced the shape of that as well, soothing him.

Cihro rolled his head to look up at him. Talsin’s eyes were unfocused, his brows furrowed as he caressed his back.

“Hun?” he prompted.

Talsin’s gaze fixed on his spine. “Do you think if it’s possible for me to cut ties with my family, the same can be done with the Clasp?”

Cihro pursed his lips. “I dunno.”

“Think about it.” Talsin carded a hand through his hair. “Humour me.”

Cihro sighed. “I mean, your family isn’t as big as the Clasp, for starters. They don’t have the same kind of influence all over Tal’dorei, either, or at least as far as I know.” He sunk into his arms. “I dunno if the Clasp is willing to make the same kinda deal your family is. And both have the possibility of going back on their word even if they do, so there’s no guaranteed freedom.” He smushed his cheek into the crook of his arm. “I dunno, I can’t just move underground or overseas like you did. They’re all over, and they act fast.”

Talsin listened.

“But,” Cihro added, “I doubt I’m as much of an asset to them like you are to your family because of how big we are. I’m low on the food chain, so to speak. I’m disposable.”

“You’re not disposable,” Talsin cut in.

Cihro shrugged. “It’s not meant to be self deprecating, it’s just a fact. I’m content with being a nobody in the Clasp. Less eyes on me.”

Talsin reached over him to place his book on the bedside cabinet and resumed delineating his tattoos with a finger.

“So, _do_ you think it’s possible?” Talsin asked.

“Do you care if it’s possible?” he responded.

“Would I ask if I didn’t?”

“I guess not. But what I mean is, will any answer satisfy you?”

Talsin smiled knowingly. “It’s not a question with a straightforward answer. I care about your opinion, not what I think the answer is. I already know what I think.”

“And what do you think?” Cihro asked.

Talsin ruffled his hair. “I think I’m getting you out of the Clasp, one way or another.”

Cihro chuckled. “I appreciate the confidence, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.”

“Me? Get ahead of myself? Nonsense.”

Cihro closed his eyes in thought. Enough time passed that Talsin poked his cheek to make sure he was still awake and he opened them.

“It’s impossible for me to know,” he said. “I’m too close to the problem. I’m sure others have tried, but I can’t exactly ask how successful they were. And I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life in hiding if that’s what it takes.” He propped himself onto his elbows and shot Talsin a tentative smile. “Let’s focus on you for now, one problem at a time.”

Talsin returned the smile. “I’m just thinking of the future, dear. There’s a lot of it ahead for the both of us.”

Warmth blossomed in Cihro’s chest and he smiled more genuinely. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so.”


	13. Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro asks a vital question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context: This takes place after the party has rescued Talsin (see 'Hurdle' from Four and a Half Elves). Talsin did some timey wimey stuff; it's been 150 years for him even though it's only been about half a year for Cihro since they last saw each other.
> 
> "You love him despite the burden of Atlas  
> resting on his shoulders,  
> and he loves you despite the death still clinging to your lips, and the blood drying at its corners.  
> What a pair you make."  
> — the greatest lovers in hell // L.H.Z

[46]

Cihro couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t tried yet, but he felt the bug of a thought zipping around the inside of his noggin and he knew that as soon as he laid down, it would grow into a hive of angry wasps.

It was the group’s second night of travel. Earlier that evening, just as the sun was setting, they spotted the road and then retreated to make camp. Cihro was more than happy to leave the spire of Barnok’s tower behind him.

He sat on his bedroll inside their tent, the bottom drawn up to his thighs. His and Talsin’s bedroll, he corrected himself. They found an extra in Barnok’s tower that wasn’t completely covered in mould, somehow, and a sprinkle of magic cleared up the rest of the dirt and dust. They shoved them together and shared a blanket when they rested.

Talsin was getting ready for bed, shedding his family’s robes once again and haphazardly tossing them aside. Normally he folded his clothes, but Cihro saw the relief on his face when they were gone and the grimace he made when he slowly donned them in the morning. Cihro would’ve loved nothing more than to lend him something else to wear, but no spare clothes fit him. The best they could do was toss a cloak over him and hide the webbed patterns.

Talsin woke more frequently from nightmares than he used to and slept heavily when he didn’t, but he always climbed into bed with resolve at the start of each night.

He shook out his hair with a content sigh and moved to join him in a loose undershirt and pants. He started to fluff his pillow when Cihro reached out to grasp his hand. Talsin perked and stopped, eyebrows raised, but didn’t meet his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Cihro asked. His heart bounced around in his chest, hardly giving him any room to breathe.

“Anything.” Talsin paused, tilting his head. “Though I can’t guarantee an answer if it’s related to the Order.”

Cihro nodded. He removed his hand now that he had his attention and lowered it into his lap. He was finding it difficult to meet Talsin’s gaze, too, but that was true of any serious conversation he stumbled his way through.

“I should’ve asked this when we first got out of the underdark and you explained everything to me. I was scared of the answer, but I shouldn’t assume. Is this,” he gestured between them with a finger, lifting his eyes to his face, “still something you want?”

Talsin blinked, his expression morphing into one of deep concern. “Cihro,” he said, “have I done something to make you think it’s not?”

“No,” Cihro admitted. “But I – I dunno. One-hundred and fifty years is a long time, at least to me it is. Maybe it isn’t to you. I just wanna be sure and make sure I’m not forcing you into this.”

Cihro felt the cool touch of skin at his temple. Talsin’s fingers caressed his cheek, then settled into his hair, cupping the side of his head. Cihro leaned into his touch, lifting a hand to hold it there.

“I’m one-hundred percent, absolutely-certain I want to be with you.” He let out a small sigh, then smiled. “Those years, some of them did fly by. Others were slow. Not a single one went by where I didn’t think of you. You were my anchor, something to look forward to when I came back to this time. Reminding myself of you got me through some difficult times.”

Cihro felt hot behind the eyes. He couldn’t fight a few tears and a watery smile. “I should’ve written more.”

“I wouldn’t have complained if you did,” Talsin said, grinning, “but I understand if you weren’t exactly swimming in gold to do it. How much did you say that letter to Vasselheim cost you?”

“Thirty gold.”

“Thirty gold,” Talsin parroted, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "Ludicrous."

Cihro laughed and leaned forward, dipping their foreheads together. Talsin’s hand slid over the back of his neck, cementing him in place. They sat in silence for a moment, Cihro relishing the breath on his face, the simplicity of being in each other’s space. It was nourishing, after everything.

“It’s a heavy burden, this thing you’re doing,” Cihro said at last, drawing back. “I didn’t expect it when I started dating you, but whatever you do with it, I’m here for you.”

Talsin nodded and planted a kiss to his temple. They laid down to rest, Cihro’s bug of a thought squashed under heel.


	14. Time is Relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro and Talsin finally have a room alone away from the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is smut, which I've never posted online before & not something I write super often. Feel free to skip if it's not your jam!

[46]

Cihro realized one thing very fast in Drayton: Talsin was a man starved.

He was lazily looping off his scarf and cloak when the door closed behind him and Talsin strode to meet him, grabbing a shoulder in one hand and his face in the other and crushing their mouths together. Talsin kissed him feverishly with a mix of desperation, relief, joy, all pent-up energy. They’d stolen a few quick kisses or hand squeezes on the road, but that’s all they’d been: stolen moments. Talsin drank him in like he would never have another stolen moment again, kissed him like it was the first and last time he would ever get to. Cihro moaned at once, overwhelmed. 

> Cihro laced their fingers partway up the stairs, guiding his partner. "We have some catching up to do," he teased. "Do you wanna..?"
> 
> Talsin nodded emphatically, then strode past him in long, easy strides, pulling Cihro after him. 

He felt a tug at his waist, then one at his shoulder, and heard the clatter of his belts hitting the floor. He hadn’t even figured out where to put his hands when Talsin pushed open the seam in his shirt from top to bottom and shoved it over his shoulders and off his back. His hands circled to his belly and lifted his undershirt, drawing back for one breath as he pulled it over his head before dragging his open mouth back over his, tossing it aside. 

Talsin’s hands were then on his rear and thighs, scooping his legs off the floor and fastening them around his hips like a new belt. Cihro’s bare back met wall and Talsin merged against him, somewhere in the transition having moved his mouth to under his jaw, teeth catching the bristles of his stubble. 

Cihro’s brain could hardly keep pace and his breath came in ragged through red-kissed lips. That was when he realized that Talsin was a man starved, followed up by another realization: Talsin wasn't just mentally and magically stronger, but physically as well. His body felt the same, firm and lean and fit, but he tossed Cihro around with ease. Whether that was passion or physical strength, though, he wasn’t sure. 

So much could happen in one hundred and fifty years. The thought still made Cihro ache from the deepest recesses of his heart. 

He was somewhere in the middle of another moan when his brain returned to him, Talsin sucking a bruise onto his neck. Cihro pressed his hands to his shoulders and pushed. “Slow down, honey, slow down,” he said. Talsin withdrew, breathless, eyes not meeting his, but Cihro saw the magic sparking behind them, a restless storm of power.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cihro said with a smile, cupping his cheek. “Take it easy.” 

“I know,” Talsin said, leaning their foreheads together, eyes still downcast. “I’m sorry, but I - I might. And it’s been so, so long.” He squeezed his eyes closed, sinking against his forehead. “I'd forgotten - I'm remembering what you feel like. I'm sorry, is this alright?"

“Yeah, it’s okay. I just wanna savor it, that's all.” His smile tweaked into something cheekier. He nuzzled into Talsin’s nose. “I hope you at least had some quality solo time while you were away.” 

“I’m a narcissist, darling, not a masochist.” 

Cihro laughed, and Talsin surrendered a weak chuckle, then leaned to sip kisses from him again, softer and slower at last. 

“I missed you,” Cihro whispered, clenching his legs. 

“I’ve missed you tenfold,” Talsin said. “There’s no competition.” 

“I wanna argue, but you’re probably right.”

Eventually Cihro’s feet returned to the floor and he discarded Talsin’s familial robes. He had half a mind to hurl them out the window or burn them, a distant pang of anger in his heart leftover from the underdark, but Talsin swept him back into his arms, hands gliding over his waist and up his back with the precision and care of casting a spell. He didn’t have to wear them anymore. They undressed fully and transferred to the bed, where Talsin greedily pulled Cihro into his lap and peppered his chest and stomach with kisses.

“Do you have supplies?” Talsin asked, lips cresting his collarbone. 

“Is that what you want?”

Talsin nodded eagerly.

"Me, or you?"

"You," Talsin practically purred. "I want you."

“I was just at the general store, T,” Cihro said, tangling his fingers into his hair. “Of course I have supplies. I was there for clothes, but y’know, I figured.”

One of Talsin’s hands lifted from his back. Cihro glanced and caught a twirl of his wrist. He didn’t see anything, but his bag lifted from the ground and floated over to them as if held by an invisible force. “That’s convenient," he said with a grin.

Talsin only smiled against his skin, still multitasking while the mage hand rummaged around inside and withdrew a bottle of a milky liquid. It settled into his waiting hand and he wrapped his arms back around him, burying his face into his sternum, over his heart. Cihro brushed aside some hair and kissed the top of his head. One-hundred and fifty years changed its colour, but not its texture. The strands were smooth and familiar under his touch.

He jumped when a third hand tweaked his bottom. “Talsin,” he chided, laughing. 

Talsin only shot him a quick grin, then gripped his hips, removed him from his lap, and flopped Cihro down on the bed on his back. He hooked a leg over his shoulder while he got him prepped and Cihro arched, relishing in the fact that hey, this was only their second time doing this and it was _Talsin_ that was inside him. His heart fluttered in love and excitement, heat roiling under his skin like magma under the earth, a volcano itching to burst. 

Talsin withdrew his fingers. Cihro swung his leg from Talsin’s shoulder, sat back up, grabbed the lube from him, and stroked Talsin’s cock in it. It was too easy, and Talsin unravelled in his hand, falling back on his elbows, his skin flushed a delicious reddish purple.

“You look so good when you blush,” he said, voice pitched low, bumping their chests together. 

“So you’ve said,” Talsin panted, twisting his hips into Cihro’s hand when he gave a squeeze and biting his lip. Cihro leaned in to nip his lip as well, steal it back from him. 

“I’ll never get tired of it.”

He spread a hand over Talsin’s heart and pushed him back into the bed, flattening out his arms. Cihro straddled him, sliding his hips forward to align their cocks. He brought them both into hand, groaning when he slicked the lube onto himself from Talsin, grinning something fierce.

"On top again,” he observed. “I guess some things never change."

“I suppose it’s your favourite way to feel tall,” Talsin droned.

"What can I say, I like the view.”

"Wait," Talsin said, placing a hand on his wrist. "Can you turn around?"

Cihro nodded, shimmied his shoulders playfully, and rotated so his back faced Talsin. He became conscious of his brand as Talsin's hands glided up his back, then back down, and involuntarily tensed. Talsin could see and touch his brand a hundred times more and his reaction would never change. 

"I love your shoulders," Talsin commented, admiring, kneading into muscle. Cihro relaxed. “They’re strong.”

“Strong? That’s the best word you’ve got?”

“Even I sometimes suffer a worse vocabulary from being distracted, my dear. Hard to believe, I know.” 

"Strong works. Archery will do that to you." Cihro tousled his hair in a flip and rose on his knees to sink on to Talsin, steadily, taking his time, rising off the tip before taking more of him. It might not’ve been a hundred and fifty years for him, but it was still a few months, and even during their first time it wasn't Cihro on the receiving end. He chewed his lip and let out a shuddering groan, bracing his fists on Talsin’s thighs. 

Talsin steadied him, his thumbs sweeping encouraging strokes into his skin. Cihro leaned back until he was flush with Talsin's chest and stomach, supine, slotting his head into the slope of his collar. Talsin's hands roamed up over his abdomen and sternum as he began the slow roll of his hips. 

He reached back to lock a hand around the back of Talsin's head. Talsin tilted his face into his, his breath a shallow burst of heat against his cheek and his moans close to his, a name whispered somewhere in there. 

He was sure whatever noises could be heard from their bedroom would join the rest of the saloon. Sex wasn't unusual, but this was an extraordinary moment to him, reunited with his partner. No quantity of time together could make up for what Talsin lost, but Cihro hoped the quality of which could at least meet it. He basked in it, took nothing for granted, committing the rub of their skin and the intense pleasure to memory. 

He swore as one of Talsin's hands fisted around him and joined the pace, offsetting the easy slide out and snap of his hips. "Babe," he choked out, not even recognizing his own voice. 

"I've had a hundred and fifty years to think about what to do to you," Talsin whispered, voice hoarse. Cihro shuddered from head to toe, and Talsin slowed and shifted, moving to sit up. Cihro moved with him, sighing in bliss as Talsin slid his fingers up his spine and pressed two kisses to the back of his neck and shoulder. Talsin then folded him at the waist, bending him into the mattress.

"This okay?" he asked, fingers still on his spine.

"Yeah," Cihro said, nodding. 

The position made him feel doubly aroused, all of his hair on every pore standing up at once. Cihro balled his fists by his head as Talsin resumed, one hand holding a hip while the other stroked him, but it was harder and faster and more precise.

He fumbled a hand back to lay it over the one on his hip, at this point just hanging on for the ride. Whatever noises he made were involuntary, reactionary, short moans and pleas. His hair scraped against the sheets of the bed. Talsin laced their fingers, raised their joined hands to kiss, once, then gripped his hip again, fingers still twined.

“Cihro,” he said, his voice reaching him on a wave of ecstasy, “I’ve missed you so, so much--please, please come for me.” 

He asked so sweetly, but it was accompanied by a vicious thrust of his hips and a squeeze around the head of his cock, Cihro couldn’t help but unravel in his hands. He gasped and Talsin stroked him through it, slowing only when Cihro’s shivers lessened into stillness. He felt heat recede from his body and Talsin released him, then felt the slick length of him rest against his sacrum. Cihro hummed his appreciation, smiling over his shoulder, and pressed back against him, counting a breath in and out. He rose.

He then spun and surged into him, eagerly taking Talsin in hand again and meeting him in a heady kiss. Talsin fell back against the bed and Cihro laid on top of him with all of his weight, hoping to convey just an ounce of the love and gratitude and joy he felt for being with him. He grinded against him with his body as well his hand, sandwiched between them. 

“Will you come for me too, T?” he asked airily, lips tracing along the fine folds of his ear. Talsin sputtered on a breath, his mouth open, and Cihro kissed into it. “C’mon, sweetie. I know you want to. I want you to.”

Talsin gave a hard jolt and Cihro felt him come in his hand, warm and wet. He licked up his neck, tasting just the faintest tinge of sweat and salt, rubbing him through it just as Talsin did for him. Slowly, he came down from his high. Cihro let out a sigh and wiggled out his arm, flopping it over the edge of the bed and laying boneless on top. 

They laid in blissful silence for a moment, catching their breath, soaking in the aftermath. The sounds of the outside world drifted in, puncturing the walls Cihro had thrown up so only Talsin existed. He caught what sounded like the distant pleasure of strangers and gave a chuckle. Either the walls were thin or people weren’t shy about being loud here. Talsin’s chest stuttered with a small laugh as well. 

“Love you,” Cihro said, kissing his throat, then his jaw, and eventually the corner of his mouth. There was more he wanted to say, weighing on his tongue - _please don’t leave,_ _I want to stay here, I missed you,_ but he let his actions speak for him.

Talsin murmured a soft “Love you, too,” and turned his face into a proper kiss. It held the same energy as before, only now with more weight, like he'd filled an empty heart. He rolled them on to their sides and tangled their legs into an easy weave, his fingers coasting over his cheek and into the hair at his temples. Cihro's hair stood up on end at the presence of magic - Talsin was cleaning them. 

Talsin kissed him for a long while, slow, tender, and with purpose. Cihro let himself love and be loved for as long as was needed - for the both of them. 


	15. Tacit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro took eye contact for granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context: Talsin is now a wizard who keeps a portal closed that keeps Lolth imprisoned in the Abyss at all times, which he recently adopted from his mentor. His connection to the portal is his eye, which appears clouded over. When he looks directly at people, he gets flashes of their various futures. He hasn't made eye contact with Cihro since his return out of fear of seeing his future and the multitude of ways Cihro can die from his adventures. He's learning to control it.

[48]

“What are you humming?”

Cihro opened his eyes. He didn't remember closing them, which meant he was fast on his way to dozing off when he shouldn't have been. He rolled his head to look at Talsin and scooted further upright in bed. Talsin had his back turned to him and was sorting through various books and papers on the floor with an open satchel nearby. The early morning light colouring the room revealed his skin to already be its high elf colour and his hair a bright blonde, like sun on wheat. 

Cihro stole a smile. He couldn't help but doze. Talsin's presence was like a cozy hearth to him. It was the safest place he could be. 

“I was humming?” he asked.

"You were,” Talsin replied. “Nothing quite as good as my own, but I like it. I've never heard you hum for more than a few seconds before." He shifted his head marginally, his cheek and nose becoming visible. “Is it any song in particular?”

Cihro swung his legs over the side of the bed and landed his feet on the floor, wiggling his toes.

“Maybe. I didn't know I was humming, so I don't actually know. What did it sound like?”

Cihro saw the peek of a smile as Talsin returned to his bag. He hummed it back to him. Cihro beamed. Most of Talsin's self aggrandizing was made in jest, but he really did have a sweet voice. 

He'd missed it.

But the tune was a familiar one and not just a mindless string of notes. As Talsin's humming faded into silence, Cihro nodded.

“Sounds like one of mom's lullabies. Day's been teaching me on the lute.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh as he pushed to his feet to hunt down a shirt. “I've been around Day too long. At this rate I'll be singing and playing three instruments by next Winter's Crest.”

“Oh, good,” Talsin said, closing his bag and rising. “When can I expect to see you sporting a poncho and funny hat? It's the least you could do to repay me after forcing me to wear that ridiculous-ow-”

Cihro had gently lobbed a shoe he'd found at Talsin. He gave an indignant “Throwing shoes is _rude_ , Cihro,” followed up by a self-pleased chuckle that knew he deserved it. Cihro chuckled, too, then scooped up his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Talsin joined his side, the rest of Cihro's clothes folded against his chest. He held them out and Cihro smiled up at him. He was met with pale blue eyes, one still paler than the other despite his disguise. They weren’t focused on him, but cast downwards where Cihro had accepted the clothing.

He frowned. He kept forgetting. He understood why, but it didn't dishearten him any less. It was such a small thing he’d took for granted. So many of their conversations were carried through their eyes or at times said something completely different from what came out of their mouths. It was a language and expression of love all on its own.

But Talsin was smiling, at least, which was a vast improvement from faraway stares with a troubled browline. 

He helped Cihro dress, and even though he avoided his eyes, his hands always seemed to know where to fall, like he had memorized the space Cihro existed in. Talsin adjusted his scarf and straightened his collar, then swept away at a few crumbs of dirt on his leather strap.

“Thanks,” Cihro said once he'd finished. He almost made a joke but stopped himself, reaching up to cup Talsin's face instead. Talsin twitched in surprise, his eyes flicking close to where he was, but no dice, just shy. He did that a lot.

Cihro moved his hand so his palm covered the magic, misty eye. Talsin hesitated, squeezing both eyes shut.

"It's okay," Cihro said, stroking a thumb and bringing his other hand to join the first to cradle his face. "It's okay. I want you to look at me, T. I have it covered."

He opened his eye, wide and fixed directly on him. There was a fear in it, like he was afraid of what he'd find, but it abated and was replaced with a sharp clarity. He gave a sigh of relief and smiled wearily, the weight of his head sinking into his hands. 

Cihro tilted his head and gave a wide, warm smile. “See? Not so bad.”

Talsin laughed, a bittersweet sound, and leaned to kiss him.


	16. Passing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro asks Talsin if he saw his father while he was time traveling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after 'Flounder' when they're both back in Westruun.

Cihro dumped his bag on the floor, took two long strides, and fell on the back of Talsin’s chair to close his arms around his shoulders. Talsin sat at a writing desk in their room and jumped like he’d been too focused to notice Cihro enter. 

“Oh, hello,” Talsin said, a smile in his voice. With his free hand he reached up to pat one of Cihro’s hands, then held it. Cihro rocked them a bit, planted a kiss on the back of his neck, then buried his face into the curve of his collar.

He basked in the moment, relieved to be free of his research at the Cobalt Reserve and the irritation at the base of his neck from reading his sister’s name over and over. It was like a growing pain with branches reaching into his head and the roots coiling around his heart.

The scratching of Talsin’s quill returned. Cihro peeked, but the desk was littered with papers lined with runes, illustrations, and notes in languages he didn’t understand. All stuff that soared way over his head. He lowered his face back into Talsin’s jacket, breathing in deeply. 

“You’re home early,” Cihro commented, voice muffled.

“I like to think that you’re late, actually,” Talsin said. “At the reserve again?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything new of interest on that darling sister of yours?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He rolled his head to stare at the wall, unconsciously squeezing Talsin tighter. “I have a question for you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Did you ever see my dad?”

The scratch of the quill stopped.

“You said you saw my mother and I when you were time traveling,” Cihro elaborated, unwinding his arms and circling to Talsin’s right. “Did you ever see my dad, too?”

Talsin shot him a concerned look without fully turning his head. They’d come up with a few shortcuts for faux eye contact; being in Talsin’s peripheral seemed to be one of them. Cihro leaned his hip against the desk and betrayed nothing on his face.

“I may have,” Talsin said, lowering his quill. “Why?”

“Just curious. What did you see?”

Talsin tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, relaxing when he realized Cihro’s intent. “I certainly see where you get your good looks from,” he teased. “You look a lot like him. It wasn’t anything special, I don’t think. He was walking with you hand in hand with your mother on the other side. They’d swing you occasionally. It was endearing.”

Cihro’s chest flooded with warmth. It wasn’t a memory he had anymore, but he could picture it. “I was a cute kid.”

“That you were,” Talsin agreed. He propped an elbow on the desk and rested his cheek on his fist. “I can see why you would miss him.”

“Honestly, you could make up a story about how he was actually just flipping me off and I'd probably believe you."

Talsin chuckled. “I am a talented artisan of words.” 

Cihro shuffled, glanced to the wall again, then at his feet. He was always filled with questions to burst and Talsin could usually only answer a fraction of them. Others he could answer but was hesitant to, so Cihro only pressed so far, coaxing a complicated, spiraling tapestry of a story out of him. 

“Did you ever see yours?” he asked.

“Once or twice. Going back to the underdark for any reason is dangerous.”

Cihro nodded. “Was there any ever reason to why Barnok took you where--or when--he did?” He puckered his lips. “Did you ever have control of that?”

Talsin stared back at his desk of work, his brows creased. “Mostly it was to learn, I think. Perhaps some others, like seeing you, even at a distance, was a small mercy.” He began to pile the papers together and set them aside. “I think strong emotions tie us to people, places; moments in time. There was a lesson in everything he did.”

“Do you miss him?”

Talsin finished sorting his notes and stood with a screech of wood. “He was my mentor and a near constant source of company in all my one hundred and fifty years.” He smiled sadly. “So yes, maybe a little. He grows on you.”

Cihro stepped over to hug him proper. He tried to make it comforting at first, but his brain leapt to thinking of Talsin sacrificing himself similarly to Barnok and he reflexively clenched his arms around his waist. But Talsin was good at not repeating mistakes of the past. It was a fleeting concern, an intrusive, anxious thought, nothing more. So he hugged in understanding of missing those they’d lost: his father, Talsin’s father, and Barnok. Talsin embraced him in kind and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head.

“Anyway, enough of that,” Talsin said, waving a hand and parting them. He rolled his wrists and any ink stains on his fingers dispersed into magic ash. “Have you eaten? Shall we grab dinner?” He strode to the door. “I want dinner.”

“Then let’s have dinner.”

“And a drink?”

“As many as you want.”


	17. Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro gives Talsin a massage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut here, just fluff!

Cihro was, above all, a gifter. When Talsin surprised him with an all-day date, Cihro spent half the time excitably conjuring up ideas on how to return the favour. He already had stuff in mind, Talsin just beat him to it. All he told Talsin to do was clear his schedule.

He first waved two theatre tickets under Talsin’s nose. When that elicited the reaction he wanted, a smile radiant enough to rival the stars, he ducked them behind his back.

“We have to get ready first,” he said, setting them aside at Talsin’s pout and grinning. “Come with me.”

He lead him by the hand to the washroom adjacent to his room on the third floor of the manor. It was considered one of the smaller bathrooms of the estate and the size of the tub didn’t hold a firefly’s rear end to the sauna in the basement, but it was still massive and a treat to be living beside. Cihro was used to a wooden bucket of a bathtub if he wanted to bathe, knees bent inside – here, even Talsin could stretch out his legs.

Cihro had a bath drawn; wispy pillars of steam spiralled from the surface of the water. He’d lit a few candles, but the afternoon sun was still the main source of light highlighting the room. Laid out on the floor was a blanket dotted with throw pillows.

“What’s all this?” Talsin asked, but a knowing smile quirked the edges of his mouth.

“It’s for you,” Cihro said, squeezing his hand once before letting go. He dipped and plucked a bottle of wine off the floor next to the blanket. “I wanna give you a massage and a bath, if you’ll let me.”

Talsin tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Have you ever given a massage before?”

Cihro uncorked the wine with his tongue trained between his teeth. “No, but I did spend a day at the reserve researching it. Sure beat looking into my sister.”

Talsin chuckled in agreement and began to strip, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head. “So it’s all theoretical knowledge, then, and nothing practical.”

“Yep. But you never got any practise holding up a portal before you were thrust into it, right?” He poured. “This is small fry. And I’ll only get better the more you let me do it.”

“You make a valid point, even if holding up a portal and massages are two vastly different things.” Talsin, bare-chested, folded his shirts and set them aside, then shimmied out of his pants. He folded those as well to join his shirt, then proffered a hand to Cihro. Cihro planted the glass in his hand, clinked it with his own, and they drank.

“Is that okay?” Cihro asked, swirling his wine. “Or do you wanna skip straight to the bath?”

“I’m curious.” Talsin strolled past to the makeshift bedding on the floor and sat, setting aside his glass. Cihro followed suit, but sat beside the blanket. “And your..?” Talsin gestured to Cihro’s clothes. “That’s unfair, keeping those on.”

“Oh.” Cihro wormed out of his shirt. He hadn’t even gotten fully dressed, knowing his plans, so it was just the single layer he shed. Talsin didn’t argue over remaining dressed below the waist. 

“Do you want me to lie down?” Talsin asked.

“Not yet. Sit across from me.” Cihro shuffled, crossing his legs. Talsin mirrored him. Cihro laid out both arms palm up as if to meditate, but stretched and closed his hands several times. “Do this.”

Talsin shot him a perplexed look, but made no vocal objections, and copied him. “This massage is going so well,” he said, sarcastic.

“Shut up. It’s to get the blood flowing.” Cihro reached to the foot of the blanket for a few small bottles, oils he’d bought. “Smell these, which one do you like best?”

Talsin passed each vial under his nose, catching whatever faint aroma he could. He settled on vanilla and placed it in Cihro’s hand with a satisfied smile. Cihro nodded, pushed the others aside to a safe distance, and leaked it into his palms.

“Hand,” he said. “Gimmie.”

Talsin extended a hand. Cihro’d become familiar with his hands since his return. They were more calloused than he remembered and a few cuts marred a once flawless surface. His nails, however, remained perfectly trimmed and filed, so that was one less thing for Cihro to do.

Cihro rolled a knuckle between thumb and pointer, then a joint, moving outward on each finger with decreasing pressure. The scent of vanilla surfaced and grew, a universally pleasant smell. Cihro found himself relaxing, too, despite not being his main goal.

“You cast spells and write so much, gotta make sure you take care of these,” Cihro said gently. “Seems like you have that handled for the most part.”

“ _Hand_ led?” Talsin asked, winking obnoxiously.

“I could end this date right here,” Cihro threatened.

Talsin chuckled. “I know the importance of stretching. Wouldn’t do me or anyone any good to get carpal tunnel before I’m three-hundred.” He tossed his head, flicking some hair from his eyes. “Though, taking basic care and spoiling are two separate things, and you’re doing the latter.”

Cihro grinned, happy to. He slid his thumb over all of Talsin’s knuckles at once, horizontal, smoothing towards the wrist, then followed each tendon with a thumb.

“By the way, if anything is ever too hard or soft, let me know,” he said. Talsin only waggled his eyebrows and Cihro gave a light smack to the back of his wrist. “You know what I mean. And if you ever want me to focus on one spot for longer, just tell me.”

“I can think of a few places,” Talsin teased, waggling his eyebrows a second time as if Cihro could’ve somehow missed the first. Cihro only shook his head, but his grin didn’t waver. He wasn’t opposed to that being the conclusion of his massage, but he also had plans in mind for later, post dinner and show.

Cihro flipped Talsin’s hand over and worked at the palm, kneading circular motions. He worked methodically, from wrist to knuckle, then gently squeezed the webbing between his fingers. He occasionally glanced up from his work to gauge Talsin’s reaction – good, bad, or in-between. Talsin appeared at ease, leaning on his other hand while Cihro showered its sibling in firm and soft touches.

He finished by pressing the heel of his palm into the muscles at Talsin’s thumb, then swapped hands. Talsin made idle chat in that time, musing over what the play would be like, and Cihro grunted and nodded along.

“Okay,” Cihro said, releasing his hand. “ _Now_ you can lie down. On your stomach.”

Talsin reclined on to his side then dropped to his stomach. Cihro propped a pillow under his knees, and Talsin had already made himself comfortable on one for his head, arms folded and chin rested against freshly massaged knuckles. Cihro re-applied oil to his hands, admiring Talsin’s back. He was all long, elegant lines of muscle and sculpted bones.

Cihro’s hands hovered. Talsin had a slight hunch ever since he took on the stress of the portal in the underdark. It was intense at first, but as his power grew and he became accustomed to it, it lessened, yielding to his confident posture. It never quite went away – that was just how it was with that level of magic. Cihro could almost feel the invisible weight poised above and behind Talsin’s back, like clouds before rain but never releasing their purchase.

He’d put his hands there in intimacy, as a place to ground himself and wrap around, but this felt different.

“Are you alright with me touching your shoulders?” he asked. “It’s not gunna – interfere with anything, right?”

“It shouldn’t?” Talsin said. “I don’t believe so. If I can’t control it for a massage or for sex or while I’m sleeping, then I’m a poor excuse of a wizard. Touch away.”

Cihro laughed. He appreciated the levity. “Okay, well, same as before, you know the drill.”

Cihro sat next to his head and started with wide, smooth motions over his entire back, scapula to hips and up the backs of his arms. Talsin tensed at first, involuntarily, similar to how Cihro tensed whenever Talsin’s fingers found his brand. Also similarly, he quickly relaxed, succumbing to the warmth and pressure of Cihro’s hands.

Cihro couldn’t help but smile as he kneaded and worked at the muscles, alternating between pulling them up like dough and bracing his fists against them. Talsin was more vocal this time around about what he liked, which direction to go, and whether a touch was too firm or too light. His hands were a nice warm-up and Cihro fell into an easy rhythm, calling up images and terms from the books best he could remember. There was a surprising amount to the whole massage thing.

Then again, he knew so many weak points on a body, where to stab or cut to have someone dead in less than a minute, which organs were most vital. If there was an art to that, he saw how there was an art and career to be made out of this, too.

Cihro was used to being damage control, easing tension in conversations and placating where needed. It felt only natural to do the same for his partner’s body.

Talsin started to hum a tune between instructions, which grew less frequent the more Cihro adapted to his wants. It soothed Cihro’s ears and soul in equal measure – there wasn’t an ounce of tension left in the room in either of them. Cihro eventually slowed and stopped, replacing his hands with a single finger trailing up and down Talsin’s spine.

“Wanna get in the bath?” he asked. “There are some salts I wanna try.” Talsin rolled his head, peeking up with him with a single eye, his normal one, lid hooded.

“But what if I fell asleep here instead?”

“I’m not stopping you, but the water’s only gunna be hot for so long, babe.”

“I can fix that.” As if rising to a challenge, Talsin rolled to his feet and approached the tub. He dipped a finger in, then waved a hand. A sigil flashed midair, and steam rose from the surface once more, good as knew. Cihro blinked. Talsin grinned over his shoulder, stepping out of his smalls. “Coming?”

Cihro beamed, chucked aside his pants and undergarments, scooped up their wine, and joined him.


	18. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro and Talsin are engaged. They discuss wedding plans.

[85]

Cihro cracked open the door to his room. Talsin’s back faced him while he scoured the bookshelf. Most of its items belonged to him. Cihro owned a decoration or two, but Talsin had no issue filling the shelves. The sight of him lit a candle in his chest. It was a month and a half since Talsin left, but it whipped by faster than an airship. Coming home to Talsin was a novelty he thought would never wear off.

Cihro clicked the door closed behind him, stepped over to the rug, and sunk into a cross-legged position.

“Wanna lay on the floor with me?” Cihro asked. Talsin turned with an eyebrow cocked, three books tucked into the crook of his arm. His mage hand held a fourth, higher up.

“You have two couches, an armchair, a desk, and a bed fit for kings – and you want to lie on the floor?”

“What, you think the floor has cooties?”

“We all know the floor has cooties, yes.”

Cihro patted the spot next to him, then flopped backwards, starfished. He was born with the uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere and his cloak had enough padding that he could bundle up and do just that, but he stared at the ceiling while Talsin approached. He sat, then joined him lying down. Cihro fumbled around until he found an arm, then an elbow, and followed the shape of it until he could hold his hand.

“The floor is for a specific kinda mood,” Cihro explained.

“And what mood is that?”

“Tired, but I don’t need to be anywhere.” He rolled on to his side, sliding his elbow to be a rest under his ear. “I think I have a better idea of what I wanna do for our wedding.”

Talsin propped himself up to mirror his pose. “Do tell.”

“No idea where yet, but earlier this week, Day contacted our mom. It might not be possible, but if it is, I want her to be there.”

Talsin’s eyes softened. “Better yours than mine.”

Cihro snorted. “She can be your mom, too.” Talsin blinked like he hadn’t considered that, falling over onto his back with a hand over his stomach while staring vacantly at the ceiling. Cihro grinned and continued, “I think I want it to be small in general. Only close friends and family, but we party hard.”

Talsin’s mouth twitched in a smile and he nodded in agreement.

“There’s something else I thought about, too.” Cihro scratched at his scruff with a finger. “What’do we do about our surnames? Do you wanna keep your name or change it? I know you kind of have an unpleasant history with it.”

“I think I’ll keep it,” Talsin decided after a moment, pinching at his jacket buttons. “It would be too easy to get rid of it, wouldn’t it? I think I’ve come to terms with what’s happened, or at least I will.”

“Okay. I’ll just take Hirol, then.”

Talsin’s head snapped to regard him. “Are you sure? It has the same unpleasant connotations for you.”

“It’s not really your family’s name, though, is it? It’s yours now.”

Talsin’s eyes flickered down, again as if he hadn’t considered. “I suppose it is.”

“See? Floor’s a great place for brainstorming,” Cihro said. “I don’t wanna get rid of my dad’s name either, though, so I’ll just add yours on to mine. Cihro Lanna-Hirol – wait, that sounds horrible. Cihro Hirol-Lanna? That’s better.”

Blush stole over Talsin’s cheeks and nose. Cihro felt warm in the face for saying it, too. A lot of things he thought about became tangible when he spoke them aloud. It wasn’t just a fantasy, it was going to be a reality. With every word they exchanged in planning, the closer they got to the final result.

“Makes me feel like a fancy-ass elf,” Cihro joked. “I could have four names if I wanted: Cihro Firahel Hirol Lanna.”

“Why stop at four?” Talsin said. “You could always throw Dayereth’s father’s name into the mix, too.”

Cihro scrunched his face. Talsin frowned.

“That was a joke, darling, please don’t actually consider it.”

“I won’t. He’s not my dad.” He huffed. “And I’m still – yeah, I’m not touching that right now. Does being married to you make me a lord?”

“If I don’t get to benefit from any noble privileges on the surface for my name, then neither do you.”

“Plain and simple, I like it.”

“Anything else?” Talsin prompted, steering the conversation to its origin.

“I think that’s about it for now,” Cihro said. “Your ring is in the works. It won’t be ready before you leave, but it’ll be waiting for you here whenever you come back.”

Talsin smiled. “I expect only the best.”

“Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“Likely the same time as before.” He reached up to stroke his jaw and cup his cheek, his touch feather-light. “You have remarkable patience.”

“Me? Speak for yourself.” Cihro leaned into his hand, turning his head to brush his palm with his lips. “I’m patient cuz I have to be. We keep busy, anyway. Time flies when you’re running from pit fiends and vampires and undead dragons. Or running at them, in some cases.”

“I’m sure.”

Cihro slid flat once more, pulling Talsin’s hand from his face to thread their fingers and hold it against his chest. “I won’t lie, it’s been tough without you,” he admitted quietly. “I kinda have a support group now, but you’re my best friend. I tell you everything. To not have that to talk to, it’s hard. But I feel bad for complaining, too. You were gone way longer.”

“Don’t feel bad, C. When people have it worse than me that doesn’t stop _me_ from complaining.” Talsin shuffled closer, bumping their foreheads together. His voice dropped to a caress. “There was no way for you to know where I was. You’re justified in feeling the way you are. Besides – it’s nice to be missed. How could you not?”

Cihro nodded. Talsin kissed his forehead, then tucked Cihro’s head against his collar and bundled him up in a hug. “We each have our own responsibilities now, things that are bigger than us that can’t be ignored. No matter what pulls me away, I’ll always try to come back to you. That’s my promise.” His fingers drew out the chain necklace from Cihro’s shirt and thumbed the ring that hung from it. “That’s what this is.”

Cihro closed his eyes and let the truth of his words encase him, wrapping himself up in them like a blanket. “Thanks.”

Talsin nodded. Cihro dozed and was nearly asleep when he heard a whisper: “Can we _please_ move to the couch? Or the bed?”

He laughed, and climbed to his feet. 


	19. Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro talks about his anxiety.

Cihro crawled into bed. Talsin was already present, lounging and reading by candlelight ever since Cihro walked in. He insisted on staying up until Cihro came home no matter the hour, and the current hour was late.

Talsin was shirtless, but wearing pants; Cihro was dressed to match. He dipped beneath a purple arm and laid his cheek on Talsin’s chest, one arm dropping over his far side. He closed his eyes as Talsin placed a hand on his head and carded his fingers through his hair.

“Your heartbeat,” Talsin observed, “is very fast. Now I know normally that’s my doing, but I see no reason for it right now, so I have to ask: are you alright?”

Cihro swallowed and opened his eyes. He thought he was fine, but Talsin was right. His heart knocked incessantly against his ribcage and his throat felt too narrow and he couldn’t ignore it now that it was pointed out to him. He breathed out slow in an attempt to mend it.

“You met with Sean, is that right?” Talsin asked. “For help with your alternate identity?”

Cihro nodded. “Yeah. I guess I’m always like this afterwards.” He cuddled closer, folding his legs in to hook one around Talsin’s calf. “I swear I didn’t use to be so nervous around him or even in general. I've noticed my heart beats a lot when it shouldn’t be, and I’m – my thoughts get erratic? I get paranoid I've upset or disappointed somebody and gotten them mad at me.”

The words were tumbling out of nowhere; Cihro didn’t realize he’d been withholding this particular landslide of emotions.

“Like after I got back from Tyr’s,” he explained. “I was worried Kishore would be mad I stayed behind to steal the evidence or possibly kill him. She liked him. But she just offered me a hug and didn’t comment.” He turned his nose into Talsin’s sternum, away from the world. “I’m always scared what that anger will lead to.”

Talsin lowered his book marginally, arms relaxing. “This all sounds dreadfully familiar to me,” he said. “I get thoughts like those, too: anxious ones. Because that’s what it is. Anxiety. You’ve been under far too much stress.”

Cihro’d evened out his breathing, but his heart risked making a break for it again. He always understood it, his favourite boys were both victims of anxiety, but to experience it himself – it was weird. It never occurred to him to use that word for himself, like it was some kind of impossibility.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this for so long,” Cihro sympathized. 

“I’m only sorry you’ve been introduced to it,” Talsin returned. “Anxiety is a horrible, wretched thing. I wish you could have lived life without it.”

“I think I got off lucky to have lived this long without it," Cihro said. "Day is anxious, too.”

“I think that boy was destined to be anxious,” Talsin said, and Cihro heard a telltale smile in his voice. He cracked a smile of his own and nodded in agreement. Talsin licked a finger and flipped a page.

“There’s not much advice I think I can offer you that you don’t already know from having known me for so long,” he said. “You’ve always been rather good at calming yourself down, but know that I’m here for you. Sometimes anxiety needs another voice to interrupt it. And while it may be irrational at times, it may also keep you on your guard.”

“I get it,” Cihro sighed. A pause, then, “Can you read to me?”

“I’m not exactly sure how interesting divination magic will be to you,” Talsin said, petting over the back of his neck.

“Material doesn’t matter so much as the reading itself,” Cihro said. “But if I had to pick, I’d ask you to read one of the books I like.”

“That list is very small,” Talsin teased, and Cihro lightly butted his head into his chest in rebuttal, earning him a small ‘ _oof_.’

“Maybe if people actually _knew_ what I _liked_ then I’d get more _recommendations_.”

Talsin chuckled and Cihro heard the _fwump_ of his book closing. He shifted, muscles stretching under his cheek before resting again. His arms settled around him like the crook of a fence and Cihro felt a new book spine against his waist.

“We’ll need to find more books to flesh out your collection, then. I hope this does the trick.” Cihro thought he heard the tiniest note of insecurity, but before he could confirm or deny it Talsin cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

Cihro focused in with every available sense. Talsin’s chest lifted with breath and his skin was warm, scented from a recent bath. His voice was opulent, precise, and he enunciated clearly, embedding the story with drama and personality. Different characters received different voices. It was the murder mystery Cihro lifted from the Roadwarriors house ages ago, and Talsin added more life to it than when Cihro read the same lines in his head. He could have read him a calculus textbook and made it sound interesting.

There was a part of him that saw the irony in revisiting a story now that he was involved in a murder mystery of his own, but he was the villain while everybody else scrambled around him. They all tried to shake the truth out of him despite his warnings about the danger of knowing.

But he gave himself permission to be whisked away again and live in a world where he wasn’t blinded by the spotlight. Talsin was safety, an arm around his shoulders leading him backstage again where he could rest. And rest he did; before the first chapter was out, Talsin read him into a deep, calm sleep.


	20. Scarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro gives Talsin his old scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For promptober 2020.

[86]

Talsin accompanied the group so far as Westruun's outer walls. Cihro didn't know if he planned to teleport in the middle of the street or return to the manor to do it, but Cihro drew him aside before they split. 

Ever since Talsin left for Vasselheim, their goodbyes were heavier. There was a ubiquitous threat to their lives even before they were partners, but the scale of it grew exponentially over time. When Talsin sailed off on a boat, Cihro next found him in the Underdark. 

He took some solace in the fact that Talsin was traveling somewhere safer and accounted for, but the roles were reversed. Cihro was unsure if _he'd_ be the one in need of rescuing. 

"I have a little goodbye gift for you," Cihro announced. 

Talsin's eyebrows jumped. "Oh?" 

"I realized when you leave you don't have much of me to take with you, so this should fix that." 

He reached into his bag to pull out a coiled cord of magenta scarf and held it up, arced between his hands like a banner. Talsin's eyes lit up in recognition but before he could get a word in, Cihro looped it over the back of his neck, wrapped it around the front, then let each end drape over the opening of his jacket. Talsin reached up to caress it.

"You gave me a ring, so think of this as a placeholder 'til yours is done," Cihro said, shrugging. "I know it's not of equal value, but..."

"Placeholder? Cihro, my dear, I don't know how much this shade of purple suits me, but I think this belongs to me now. That's how this works, isn't it?"

"It's magenta. At least get it right."

Talsin laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, but really, thank you – it’ll be cherished in my care. I never thought I'd see you without this colour somewhere on you."

Cihro smiled. "Me neither." 

Talsin left a good portion of himself imprinted on the Brambleview Manor – books on the shelves, clothes in his dresser, the occasional vial of cologne. What started as Cihro's space became shared and it didn’t feel right without Talsin living in it. Cihro hoped to return the favour, even if slowly. 

He rolled onto his toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, then another quick one on the lips. When he fell to his heels, Talsin chased him down to extend it, but resisted last second. 

"You don’t need me to tell you this, but I’ll say it anyway: be careful." His fingers crept into Cihro's left hand and lifted his knuckles to kiss just beside his ring. "I love you."

They hugged, then separated. Cihro spared a last glance over his shoulder when he mounted up outside Westruun. Talsin waved, walked over to a random home, procured a key, and opened the door. He disappeared into a cloud of spiralling mist that was decidedly not the inside of whoever’s house that was.

Cihro turned back to the others. The love for his fiancé and his love for him in return would buoy him through the downpour on the horizon.


	21. Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A handful of sending messages sent to Talsin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For promptober 2020.

Cihro’s sending stone was an oval opal, as smooth as polished marble and roughly the size of his palm. It glittered in fluorescent colours in his hand - greens and pinks yellows and oranges and blues all mapped like a galaxy’s arm over a white base. In the right light, those colours sank to the bottom in an orange pool.

> “Hey Talsin, just testing this thing out. Are you a wizard? ‘Cuz when I look at you, everything else just disappears! Kidding, love you.”
> 
> “—message Talsin about it, he might know –oh no, I think it’s sending. Hi! This isn’t gunna work, I’ll try tomorrow. I guess I shouldn’t—”
> 
> “Talsin, _stop_ sending me puns. I don’t want to hear them, you’re wasting the stone! I’m gunna take it back. Go to hell.”
> 
> “I jumped off an airship today. Back in Emon. I miss your spells. I miss mom, too. Love you.”
> 
> “The group found out we’re Clasp. Okay for now, was arrested. I wish you were here.”
> 
> “Quick question, if I got bit by a vampire, will I turn into one? Love you.”
> 
> “You’ll be happy to know we survived the Shadebarrow! Sorry to worry you, wanted to hear your voice before we went in. Love you.”
> 
> “Io’s convinced I had a quickie with Sean when he came over to threaten me. I swear she has a dirtier mind than I do.” 
> 
> “Hey hun, I won third place at an archery contest! I’m really working my way up. Love you.”
> 
> “—ooo drunk, but I wanted to tell you you have the _greatest ass_ , can’t believe I don’t message you just to tell you that, have—” 
> 
> “We fought a fuckton of kobolds today. I never wanna see another one in my life. Miss you.”
> 
> “If I was back in Westruun, your ring would be done by now. Weird to think about. Wish we had more time. Love you.”
> 
> “Hey, thanks for the message. I’m okay right now. I miss you, too.”
> 
> “Hey. Love you. Miss you.”


	22. Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro asks Talsin if they can have their ceremony before the week is out.

[104]

Cihro waited until Aritian’s footsteps faded away from the bathroom door before muttering, “Fucker.”

“Truly,” Talsin agreed behind him.

Cihro poked his elbow into Talsin’s ribs with a light splash of water and an ear-splitting grin. “And you’re a shit.”

“But I’m your shit,” Talsin said, unfazed. “We take turns behind shits. It’s an unspoken rule as part of our arrangement, a tale as old as time.”

Cihro settled again, lowering his head to Talsin’s collar. Talsin’s cheek pressed into his hair. He hadn’t expected Talsin to join him in the tub, but he was a welcome weight behind him, arms draped over both sides of the porcelain – a coat of armour and an anchor to the material plane. He nearly nodded off while they soaked before he heard Day and Aritian speaking outside, then Aritian’s knock and his announcement of meeting with the Margrave in an hour.

“Speaking of arrangements,” Cihro said, “I wanted to talk to you about something while you were here.”

“I’m all ears. Quite literally, sometimes.”

Cihro sat up and half-turned to look him in the eye. “Would you be interested in having a wedding ceremony? If you’re here long enough?” His gaze strayed, then returned. “I was already considering it while I was gone, but dying kind of accelerated my priorities. We can still have a reception later in Barnok’s demiplane with mom, but…” He smiled tiredly. “I just wanna make sure I get to be your husband in case something happens again, y’know?”

Talsin’s hand caught his chin, thumb rubbing just below his lip before sliding to cup his cheek. “I’d be more than happy to, Cihro,” he said, eyes twinkling. “We’ll make it happen. Whatever it takes.”


	23. Rue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro gives Talsin a horrible book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For promptober 2020.

Cihro moseyed up to his room's desk by the far window. The bedroom might have belonged to Cihro and the estate at large to Aritian, but Talsin had claimed the desk as his own when he was about, a little island full of magic and science only he understood, history that was known and history that had yet to be written.

It was Folsen and Cihro was on the cusp of being fully recovered from dying, at least physically. Mentally, there was no finish line. He was set to see Sean the following day, but his mentor was a distant concern in the sea of his mind. 

Talsin glanced up from his work. Cihro wore only his worst type of grin, arms folded behind him with what could generously be called a present.

"I found something in Cinder you might like," he said. 

Talsin's eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over the top. "Cihro, I'm not sure anything you find in Cinder should travel outside Cinder." 

"I bought it," Cihro clarified. "There was a shop full of weird shit. I asked for books."

Talsin's eyes abandoned their suspicion and gained a twinkle instead. "Books, you say?" 

Cihro unfolded his arms and extended one of his findings; a book titled _Time to Screw_. Illustrated on the cover was a pocket watch with wispy swirls of magic curled around it in the shape of a heart.

Talsin sat up to reach across the desk, took it, and sat back down. His eyebrows rose as he flipped it open, fingers tracing a random page's text and diagrams. His brows furrowed as he flipped through a handful more, jumping ahead, eyes flitting left and right. With every chunk he skipped his face flushed more in tandem with Cihro’s widening smile.

Cihro hadn't actually looked inside much himself. Some of the pictures made him laugh – all he knew was its content barely made a lick of sense to him but it would for his fiancé. 

Talsin finally snapped the book closed with a single hand. Not angrily, but decisively, like he'd unraveled its secrets and the source of Cihro's horrible grin. 

"You bought a smut book on how to use dunamancy and chronurgy in bed," he said flatly.

"Oh, is that what it is? I had no idea." 

Talsin rose from his chair, placing the book on the desk under steepled fingers. "You'll rue the day you bought this, Cihro Lanna."

"Do your worst, Hirol," Cihro taunted, then bolted. Talsin gave chase across the room and snagged him around the middle right as Cihro’s fingers grazed the doorknob. He squealed a "No!" as Talsin hauled him backwards and tickled his fingers up and down his sides from around his stomach. 

"I suppose you think it's funny," he said, but Cihro heard the joy tangled up in his voice, too. “And here I thought you were getting me something useful!”

"I think it's hilarious," Cihro managed to gasp around laughter, trying to squirm away, but Talsin held fast and had an advantage over him – he wasn’t slowed by exhaustion. He relaxed after a few torturous seconds, his chin sinking onto Cihro’s shoulder, settling into holding him from behind.

“You’re hopeless,” he sighed. “Really, though, if you want more advanced magic in bed, you need only ask. I can take a look and see if there’s anything worth salvaging.”

“It was a joke, I wasn’t expecting anything,” Cihro said, also sighing, but more from relief. “Honestly, I don’t wanna get too crazy, but if you wanna look, I won’t stop you.”

“Nothing crazy,” Talsin agreed, nosing into his neck. “Promised.”

“You should see the other one,” Cihro snickered. “ _Fifty Shades of Chromatic_.”

“Ugh.”


	24. Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro's vows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “—our love has passed through the shadow and the light of estrangement and sorrow and come out rose-crowned as of old. Let us always be infinitely dear to each other, as indeed we have been always. […] I think of you daily, and am always devotedly yours." -Oscar Wilde to Alfred Douglas

> Talsin, my best friend, my partner in crime.
> 
> Some people don’t know exactly when they fell in love, but I remember. I thought it was inconsequential and silly. We hugged and I went, ‘Oh shit, I’m in love with my best friend.’ Maybe it started before then, but nobody really gets me like you do, so I think it was inevitable either way. 
> 
> I love your smarts, your charm, your smile. I love your sense of humour, sans the puns, and that you let me see behind the curtain when you were scared to let others in. I love your utter selflessness, your generosity and kindness, and your capacity for love despite all your hardships. I miss you every minute of every day when you’re not here.
> 
> I’m at my best with you. Your qualities set a shining example of what I could be - and I promise to do my best to try and be those things in equal measure. You give so much of yourself to the world without asking for anything in return, so I promise to try and give a little bit of the world back to you.
> 
> I promise to keep trying to make you laugh and to keep making a fool of myself. I promise to be an ear for you to talk as much as you’d like about anything you like. I promise to continue to be someone you can trust and confide in. 
> 
> I look forward to a future where we can both be ourselves without fear of having our love used against us. I want to be the someone you can come home to and be your most honest self with. I’ll love you for as long as I live, and I will fight to stay alive to continue loving you until the end of my time.
> 
> I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but choosing to marry you isn’t one of them.


	25. Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the wedding ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For promptober 2020.

[106]

Cihro woke easier than he used to. Anxiety and frequent watches with the party made him ready to spring awake at the drop of an arrow. Even still, he didn’t rouse when Talsin got up, only in the aftermath in his absence. 

His eyes fluttered open to subdued morning light, huddled under the blankets up to his cheeks like a tortoise inside its shell. Talsin stood a few feet from the bed by the side of one of the windows, holding open a sliver of curtain while the other held a bathrobe closed, one Cihro’d gifted him during a former visit. 

His left hand held the drapes aside, and his wedding ring, black metal with a band of inlaid sapphires, gleamed with the sun’s first rays. The sight was perfect enough to be a painting – Talsin wearing things Cihro’d given him, hair rumpled, face alight with wonder and one long, shapely leg straight with the other bent in a sideways v. 

Cihro smiled from under the blanket and poked out his ring hand to admire. They did it – they’d tied the knot. He’d dreamed of it, but he never thought marriage was a possibility for him. The Clasp would argue that he belonged to them, first and foremost, and any romantic pursuits were secondary. They were so arrogant they assumed that anything that was his was theirs to command, too.

But they were negligible that morning. All that mattered was his union being a reality. The more skilled he and Talsin grew, the less of a threat they were. Then he shuddered, balling up further, the winter chill effectively ejecting any coherent thoughts. 

“T,” he called, practically a whine. “I’m cold. You really gunna leave your husband freezing in bed the morning after your wedding?”

Talsin turned his head, a soft grin lifting his features. “Do you want me to light a fire, old man?”

“No,” Cihro said. “I want you back here. I was supposed to wake up with you next to me, jerk.”

Talsin let the curtain fall back into place and returned to the bedside, sitting with his legs folded to the side. “Sorry, I didn’t think you’d wake. It snew. Snowed? It snowed.” He reached out to lay a hand on Cihro’s face, shifting the covers and rubbing a thumb over his cheek. Cihro leaned into his touch. “Happy Winter’s Crest, darling.”

“Happy Winter’s Crest,” Cihro returned at a mumble, and already some of his former warmth returned. It wasn’t just external – when Talsin was near, it came from within, radiating outwards. 

“You have an even more impressive bedhead from whatever product you used to style it yesterday,” Talsin teased, finding a stray hair and smoothing it back. “You look positively cute.”

“I’m always cute,” Cihro pointed out.

“Yes, something I’m afraid I’m forced to live with for the rest of our married lives,” Talsin lamented. His expression fell into something lidded and indecent, fingers skimming further down, over his bare shoulder. “You know, there are much more effective ways to warm up than cuddling.”

Cihro grinned. “Enlighten me, handsome.”

Talsin beamed, shrugged out of his robe, and slipped back under the covers to join him.


	26. In-Laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cihro introduces Talsin to the rest of the in-laws.

[125]

**i.**

Cihro steered Talsin into the back gardens with a hand at the small of his back. Under normal circumstances it would’ve been romantic, even in brumal Mithusar, but Talsin’s muscles were tight under his palm. Talsin tried to relax, but his body always tensed again, arching inward instead of relaxing against him.

He was used to being a drow on the estate grounds by now – Cihro knew the true source of his discomfort.

Cihro spotted his dad speaking with Vondal, hands sweeping the air and white clouds frothing from the mouth – probably discussing plans for spring, even if Zephir wasn’t a permanent fixture to the house. Vondal nodded intermittently.

“Dad,” Cihro called. “You’re not overwhelming our gardener, are you?”

“Cihro!” Zephir turned, and his eyes shifted to Talsin.

“Can I steal him from you?” Cihro asked Vondal.

The dwarf raised his hands and departed in the direction of the greenhouse. Zephir approached, blowing warmth into his fists, gaze locked on Talsin as he neared.

“Is this your…?”

“Husband,” Cihro confirmed, the word still having the sensation of sinking into a hot bath. “Dad, this is Talsin. Talsin, this is my dad, Zephir.”

Zephir ejected an arm. “Talsin! I've been eager to meet you. How’d you get so tall?”

Talsin formed a thin but genuine smile and clasped his hand. “By doing whatever it is Cihro didn’t do, apparently.”

Zephir burst with a short, startled laugh. “I think that’s being born by _me_.”

“But the feeling is mutual, Zephir. Cihro speaks fondly of you and it’s lovely to meet more of his family.”

They shared a firm shake. Already some of the tension dissolved as Talsin settled into himself. Cihro remembered that Talsin had seen Zephir once before in the past, where he couldn’t interact while knowing what awaited him. Cihro rubbed small, encouraging circles into the back of his jacket.

“Has he told you about what happened?” Zephir asked.

“He spared no detail. I’m glad you all escaped in one piece.”

“You and me both.”

Talsin twitched again – Cihro stepped in closer so his hip met his leg. Zephir studied them, his smile creasing at the corners.

“Sorry, you look tense. I don’t wanna give you the wrong impression, Talsin. I don’t have any expectations of you, good or bad. Cihro wouldn’t marry without good reason. I just wanna know you, too – I’m not gunna grill you.”

Talsin’s throat bobbed as he gave a nod. “I didn’t think you would, don’t worry. If I’m being perfectly honest, I just don’t know what attitude to take or how familiar I should act around you, that’s all.”

“As familiar or as unfamiliar as you like!” Zephir invited. “Whatever’s comfortable. But you are family now, even if you didn’t know you’d be getting me when you married Cihro.”

“I didn’t either,” Cihro said.

“No, but I’m glad that’s how it turned out,” Talsin said. “My parents aren’t exactly a hard act to follow up, so I’d say this is a vast improvement from where we were.”

“It’s nice,” Zephir said. “I come back and I get two sons.”

Talsin’s cheeks coloured and Cihro felt a kindling in his chest that graced his face with a smile. He slid his arm around Talsin’s waist and attached himself to his side in full, cushioning his head against his collar – a unit. They were a unit, and now they were a unit with actual, living parents.

Zephir reached out, palm upturned. Talsin hesitated only a second before sliding his fingers into it. Zephir’s tightened around it and he laid a third hand on top, sandwiching Talsin’s in-between. “Really, though, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being there for Cihro when I couldn’t be.”

Talsin laid a fourth hand onto the pile, chin tipping down. “He deserves looking after, Zephir. And the reality is, he’s had my back as much as I've had his. I’m loathe to think of where I’d be without his aid.”

“You two make me sick,” Cihro threw in, but squeezed Talsin, who smiled. “I thought you’d just start making a hurricane out of puns the second you laid eyes on each other.”

Cihro knew he’d made a grave, grave mistake as they shared a look and grinned wide, mischievously, and dangerously.

* * *

**ii.**

Cihro’s mom was harder to find. She’d made herself scarcer than his dad, and with good reason, but Cihro located her outside a day later, stringing and loosing arrows into a target at the training grounds while the sun hung low in the sky. Her body went through the motions as fluid as a dancer, but her gaze was unfocused. She still hit her mark every time without fail. ****

Cihro was the one who was tense for their encounter, but Talsin looped his arm with his. The cold, waist-high iron gates cried on its hinges as they entered.

“Mom,” he called, with slightly more gravity. She relaxed an arrow from the string and turned, then lowered the bow completely when she noticed his company.

Cihro knew his mother wouldn’t take issue with a drow husband given her outspoken distaste of Syngorn’s intolerance of others, but he wondered how much was reactionary for elves. Her eyes made a quick scan of him like she would with anyone, and she gave nothing away, her posture and expression unchanged.

“Hello,” she said. “Who might this be?”

“This is Talsin,” Cihro introduced. “He’s the husband I talked about.”

She set the bow aside on a bench and walked to them, smiling. “Ah, the son-in-law. It’s nice to meet you, Talsin.”

“Chandrelle, is it?” Talsin asked. She nodded and he offered a hand. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

She accepted his hand for a shake. Cihro unraveled his arm from Talsin’s and set a fist on his hip. A bitter taste bit into his mouth when he saw her that he couldn’t quite spit out or swallow down, but he made no show of it.

“I’m glad to see Cihro settled,” she said. “Where are you from?”

“The underdark.”

“Anywhere I might know?”

Talsin arched a single eyebrow. “That depends on what you think you know.”

“Try me.”

Talsin blew a short, almost unnoticeable gust of air. “It’s hard to pinpoint where on the surface it would be, exactly. It’s a weeks’ travel from beneath Kraghammer but when I left I emerged somewhere in the Cliffkeeps near Westruun. Tor-Eredyn is an unkind place, to put it mildly, and I’m happy to put it behind me. Or beneath me, technically.”

“I see. How long have you been on the surface, then?”

Cihro watched the math unfurl in Talsin’s head while he pulled a face. Math got even more complicated with time travel and Cihro was dizzy just thinking about it, nevermind actually doing it.

“I surfaced when I was in my sixties – I’m a little over halfway into my second century now.”

“When did you meet Cihro?”

Talsin opened his mouth with a quick and easy answer, but his lips closed on the truth. Cihro choked a laugh under his hand.

“He’s known me for about eleven or twelve years now,” Talsin supplied carefully, pinning on a winning but not quite convincing smile under his mother’s careful inspection.

“I’m not sure I follow. Did you not notice him?”

“Oh, I did,” Talsin said, slinging an arm around Cihro’s shoulders and scooping him into his side. “I’d say it’s difficult not to notice a man run straight into you.”

“That’s how you met?”

“It’s quite the story. Nothing compared to an archfey princess running away from an arranged marriage, but it’s ours.”

Chandrelle’s face formed a tiny wince. Cihro knew Talsin didn’t do it on purpose, but they were trained to pick at weak points. He quickly added, “I hate to break it to you, babe, but you were a runaway prince.”

Her eyes darted between them, caught in their banter like a ball in court.

“Firstly, I was a _noble_ , not a prince. Secondly, Cihro, my beloved husband, mine is _far_ more interesting. There were assassins and murder and a cult involved—”

“Who says there weren’t in mine?” Chandrelle interrupted, half-smiling.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Cihro said.

“Now I’m intrigued,” Talsin said. “Although, I've been curious about the whole archfey aspect from the beginning.”

Chandrelle’s gaze fell astray, momentarily, and she adjusted the strap of her quiver before returning to them with a shake of her head. “I’d—would you like to have dinner, both of you?”

Talsin looked down to him for an answer. Cihro’s wind halted in his throat – it was too easy, wasn’t it? To joke, to laugh, and pretend like nothing ever happened; like his mother hadn’t burned him and made herself the instigator of so many problems.

He didn’t want to be angry all over again, but he was, and he was allowed to be. His struggle was born of not wanting to relive the past. Pushing his mother away in his youth led to throwing more logs on the fire, but taking the space he needed and actively pushing her away were two separate needs. He could tell the difference as an adult – as a child, he’d mistaken and conflated them.

He was scared she’d disappear again if he turned her away. He didn’t know when Talsin, Chandrelle, and him would all be in the same place again. Their lives changed on the flipside of a silver piece, capricious and determined to be tragic.

Chandrelle would probably catch Talsin alone at some point regardless of what he said. Talsin’s hand smoothed down his far arm, soothing and grounding. He gave her a nod and shrug. Worst came to worst, he could make up a convincing excuse to get them out early.

“Sure.”

She leaned back like she hadn’t expected a yes, but her features softened into a smile just as quick. “Alright. Let’s head inside where it’s warm, then.”

* * *

**iii.**

Cihro didn’t expect Theotae to turn up, even at Day’s invitation for dinner – the old remains of his expectations sticking its rotten arm through the dirt again, so he was pleasantly surprised when she accepted. She was the final in-law for him to introduce Talsin to, and with the steady incline of their relationship, it was a trio he wanted to complete.

Talsin rubbed his hands together. “I've been waiting for this. Do you mind if I play a trick? I was thinking a sort of dramatic reveal, so long as it doesn’t have repercussions for you.”

“You’re good; I’d love it if you did.”

“Perfect.” Talsin swiped a hand by his face and his skin shimmered into its high elf hue, eyes blinking open blue and hair transitioning into a crisp gold.

Theotae arrived at the manor with only her druid in tow, and her entrance felt less like she was kicking down their door and ruling the space and more like she actually intended to be their guest. Azariah waved once to Zephir before she hobbled off and Theotae reached the lot of them. Cihro waved her aside as the others filed into the dining hall.

“Theotae, I want you to meet my husband,” Cihro said, resting a hand at Talsin’s spine.

She examined him. Talsin was taller, sharply-dressed, handsome, and powerful, and he wore it all with ease. He stood with the stature of a former noble, something he thought Theotae wouldn’t miss. It filled Cihro with a special kind of pride to know he could impress someone as challenging as his sister.

Talsin extended a hand.

“I’m Talsin Hirol,” he said with a charming smile. Theotae accepted with an equally practised one.

“Theotae Raethran, Lady of the Redwood, first of—”

Talsin dropped his disguise. He did it without moving, their hands still joined. Theotae’s title fell off her lips and her smile deserted her. Her eyes went round, but she didn’t flinch or budge. Talsin’s smile stretched into a sly grin.

She arrested her expression, straightened, and slipped her hand away. She took him in up and down again, but this time as he was.

“I suppose you planned that,” she said to Cihro, voice as flat as a plain.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cihro joked.

“I had to,” Talsin said. “You are my sister-in-law and I intend to play nice if you will, but I had to do _something_ after everything that’s transpired between you two.”

She deflated and bridged a hand to her forehead. “I think I’m done faulting anyone for that. Well done; I’m not often caught off-guard. I only hope that’s all you intended to prank me with.” She dipped her head to Talsin with a new smile, one without pretence. “Talsin.”

“Theotae.”

She strode off for the dining room, skirts billowing at her heels. Cihro and Talsin’s laughter echoed off the walls in her absence.


End file.
